Clean Slate
by hulettwyo
Summary: Wouldn't we all like to wipe our slate clean and start again? Buffy gets that chance, but will her new life be better or worse than the old one? This story is eight chapters long and is finished, so no long waits for my muse to get off its backside and let me write. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1 - Potatoes

Wouldn't we all like to wipe our slate clean and start again? Buffy gets that chance, but will her new life be better or worse than the old one?

Clean Slate

Chapter One – Potatoes

"My fault? You were there, too! So how is this MY fault?"

"You were supposed to take the damn pills so this wouldn't happen!"

"I have been taking the pills! Every freaking day! The doctor said they weren't a hundred percent, so maybe you should've gotten yourself fixed if you were that worried about it instead of blaming me because the pills didn't work!"

"I'm not going to mutilate myself, Buffy. That option isn't even on the table." Parker took a deep breath. "Okay, since the pills didn't work, there's only one option left."

"Which is?"

"You'll have to get rid of it."

"What?! Are you crazy?"

"One of my Dad's friends is a doctor who has handled things like this for me a few times. He can probably get it done this afternoon."

"A few times? How many girls have you knocked up?"

"I don't know. Five or six. One was our maid. My Dad made the arrangements with the doctor and paid them for their silence. All of them came from poor families, so it didn't take much; about fifteen thousand each – well, except for the maid. He had her deported. Anyway, it was a hell of a lot cheaper than the damn kids would have been, and my family's reputation wasn't compromised."

"Oh my god, Parker! You're disgusting! I don't care how much money your father throws at me, I am not getting an abortion!"

"If you want to stay with me, you have to."

"Then I don't want to stay with you! I don't ever want to see you again! Get the hell out!"

"You'd better think about this, Buffy. Without me, you have nothing. You don't have a job and your parents are dead. This isn't even your apartment. Remember where you were living when we got together? In the back room of that little shithole bar out by the interstate, waiting tables and letting shit-faced frat boys grab your ass to pay for the roof over your head. How are you going to do that when your belly is out to here? You gonna stash the kid behind the bar while you serve drinks and let the drunks feel you up? Is that what you're going to do?"

"I don't know, Parker, but I'll figure it out. I don't need you or your money. I can take care of myself and I can take care of MY baby." She pointed to the door. "Leave. Now."

"Fine. Have it your way, but you'll miss me." Parker waved around the apartment. "You'll miss all of this when you're living on the street because you chose your brat over me. And don't even try to come after me for child support if you ever want to see the kid again. By the time my lawyers get done, you'll be in a mental institution and the brat will be in foster care on the other side of the country." He walked to the door and pulled it open then turned back and said, "I'll give you a week to clear out, Buffy, but if you're still here on Saturday, I'll have you arrested for trespassing." He turned and started stomping down the hallway towards the elevators.

Buffy stepped quickly forward and shouted down the hall at his retreating form. "I can't believe I wasted six months of my life on you! Fuck you!"

Parker stopped and turned around, wearing a sneer, "You already did. And you loved it."

A few neighbors had poked their heads out of their apartments to check out the commotion. Buffy sneered back at Parker and said sweetly, "I faked it, Parker. Every time. The only thing in this apartment that has ever made me come were the jets in the Jacuzzi. Why do you think I spent so much time in there?"

Parker's face turned crimson with rage and his hands clenched into fists. "You bitch!"

Buffy smiled. "Goodbye, asshole, and good riddance. We don't need you." She backed up and slammed the door.

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**Two months later**

Buffy sat back from the toilet, wiping her mouth as she flushed. This one hadn't been too bad. The morning sickness – that was a laugh, it was more like all-day sickness – seemed to be finally easing off, but sadly not before she'd been fired from the job she'd managed to get for spending more time hunched over the toilet than standing over the fryer.

She scooted back and leaned tiredly against the wall, one hand rubbing lightly over her still flat stomach. She'd read every pregnancy book she could get her eyeballs on at the library, so the continuous morning sickness wasn't a worry. She knew it was normal for some women to be sick throughout their entire pregnancy, but Buffy sincerely hoped she wouldn't be one of those women. She looked down at her belly. "What are we going to do now, baby?" She had no job, no savings, no family or friends she could call for help, a baby on the way, and the rent for the tiny room she'd found was due at the end of next week.

Parker had broken his word to give her a week to move out, and he'd come back to the apartment two days after the shouting match in the hallway – waiting until she'd left for her brand spanking new job, of course. He'd packed up her clothes, shoes, and toiletries and had taken them down to the lobby. When she'd entered the building after getting off work, the property manager had stopped her on her way to the elevators and had informed her that he was to escort her from the premises or Parker's father would have her arrested.

Buffy had hocked the earrings, necklace, and bracelet that Parker had given her, bringing in enough cash to pay three weeks rent on her new room and buy a few groceries, if you counted peanut butter, bread, and potatoes as groceries. Her job had paid just enough to keep up with the rent, the bus fare to get to work and back, and more potatoes, bread, and peanut butter, but now she was out of money and had nothing of value left that she could sell.

There was no way she'd be able to keep the room if she didn't find a job… like today… but nobody was likely to hire someone who'd be popping out a kid in just over six months. And then there'd be daycare, and formula, and diapers, and clothes, and doctor visits… The tunnel just kept getting darker and darker and Buffy was afraid that if she ever did see a light at the end, it would only be a train about to mow her down.

She climbed slowly to her feet and rinsed out her mouth then pulled her hair back into a messy pony tail before stepping out into the small room that served as her bedroom, living room, and kitchen. She needed to eat something before she could even think about finding a job, but since she'd scraped the last of the peanut butter out of the jar last night and wouldn't be eating the daily hamburger and fries that came with her job, she was going to have to swallow what little bit of pride she had left and go to the soup kitchen. Up until this point, she'd been avoiding public assistance like the plague – wanting to prove that she could take care of herself and her baby – but now she was out of options and it was either accept help or starve.

She contemplated her wardrobe – what was left of it, anyway – wondering what she had that would be suitable for the outing. She didn't want to look completely destitute, but she also didn't want to look like she was mooching or trying to cheat others out of anything. She had one nice outfit that she was thankful she'd saved from the 'sell for food' pile. She'd need it for job interviews… if she even got that far. There were also two pairs of kind of nice jeans, one pair of torn and paint covered jeans, four shirts on the nicer end of the scale, and two old ratty t-shirts. None of those would do. She shifted over the small pile of jeans and smiled as she saw the comfy well-worn track suit left over from her days as a high school cheerleader. That would work.

She slipped the sweats up her legs and absentmindedly scratched at the little bits of school logo that still clung to the fabric. A few more flaked off and drifted to the floor as she pulled the matching sweatshirt over her head. The logo on that article of clothing had worn off completely a year or so ago, leaving behind nothing but a darker patch of cloth that was mostly hidden by the hood when it was down.

She picked up her small clamshell wallet, wondering why she even bothered to carry it. It wasn't like there was any money in it or anything; all it held was her state issued ID card and the key to her room. She considered just leaving her room unlocked so she wouldn't need to carry the wallet, but then she tucked it into the pocket on the front of her sweatshirt with a shrug. Even though she didn't have much, it was hers, and she didn't want it stolen.

She headed out, making sure to lock the door behind her, and set off for the soup kitchen. It was about a ten minute walk, and if the line wasn't too long, then she'd be able to eat and get back to her room to change into her job hunting clothes by one or so. That would give her a solid four hours to spend looking through the listings and filling out applications at the employment assistance center, and she might even have time to drop into the temp agency down the street to see if they had anything available.

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She ate quickly, not taking the time to savor her meal even though it was actually pretty good. She'd been getting some appraising glances from a few of the men at her table, one man in particular looking at her like she was a juicy steak, so she was anxious to get gone before he decided to try a bite.

She stuffed the last bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth… heartily sick of potatoes in any form, but the baby needed whatever nourishment she could give it… and stood up, quickly carrying her tray to the disposal area. She tossed her napkin and empty milk carton into the trash then handed her tray and silverware to the smiling woman standing behind the counter. "Thanks. Tell the cook that it was really good."

The woman nodded. "I'll let him know. Will you be back tomorrow? We're having beef stew."

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe… probably… but I hope not."

"I hear you on that, sweetie. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Buffy made her way to the exit, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder then hastening her steps when she noticed Steak Guy handing off his tray. She turned right as soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk, thinking that she'd take a shortcut through the alley that led behind the building. She'd scurried past the open kitchen door on the side of the building and had just rounded the corner into the alley when a meaty hand landed on her arm and spun her around.

"You left awful fast there, sweet thing. Didn't even get a chance to say hello."

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Spike had nowhere in particular to be and was in no great hurry to get there as he cruised down the street, thumping his thumbs on the steering wheel in time with the music blaring from the stereo.

The song ended just as he approached the intersection by the South-Side soup kitchen and he heard a loud clang come from the alley behind it. He hit the power button on the stereo then glanced at the mouth of the alley just in time to see a small blonde woman come stumbling out of it… and right into the path of his car. He slammed on the brakes, the tires squealing in protest as he skidded to a halt. She kept stumbling along, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she'd nearly been killed, and he threw the car into park with one hand, wrenching the door open with the other.

He bolted out of the car, already yelling before he'd even cleared the door. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Didn't your mum teach you to look both ways, you daft bint?"

She was bracing herself with her hands on the hood as she shuffled around the front of the car then her knees buckled and she crumpled to a heap, nearly landing on his boots as he stopped in front of her. He wrapped his shaking hands around her upper arms and jerked her back to her feet. "Didn't you hear me? What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Are you high?"

Her head lolled back as he held her up and he gasped as the hair that had been covering her face fell back, exposing the bright red blood that was sliding down her cheek and dripping off her jaw from a gash on her temple. She breathed out, "Please help me," then slid to the ground again when his hands suddenly lost all their strength.

"Oh… balls." He gaped at the woman currently lying on the ground at his feet then his gaze flew to the mouth of the alley when he heard another person approaching.

A rather large man stumbled out of the alley with his hands cupped over his privates. "You little bitch! Get back here!"

Being the quick study that he was, it didn't take Spike very long at all to size up the situation. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath to steady the adrenaline surging through his body then he bent down and carefully hefted the woman into his arms. He quickly deposited her in the driver's seat and her head lolled to the side, smearing blood on the seat back as he reached underneath it and pulled out the sawed-off pool cue he kept stashed there. "Stay here, luv. I'll be right back." He brushed her bangs out of her dazed eyes then backed up and shut the door.

The man was leaning against the building, half bent over as the pain from her surprisingly well-placed kick pulsed and churned in his belly. He looked up angrily when a pair of scuffed boots stopped in front of him. "That little bitch kicked me!"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, I can see that, and from the looks of her head, you deserved it."

The man straightened up, towering over Spike, and clenched his hands into fists. "What the hell do you know about it, you little shit?"

Spike sneered as he took a step back to give himself enough room to use the pool cue. "I don't know, but I can guess… You made advances, she refused those advances, and you tried to _convince_ her otherwise, yeah? That why she's bleedin' all over my soddin' car?"

With absolutely no warning, the man swung his hammy fist right at Spike's head, catching him square in the jaw. Spike was spun around and he stumbled toward his car, slamming into the passenger door with a grunt. He leaned there for a few seconds as he shook his head then he looked over his left shoulder and tightened the grip on the cue in his left hand before stepping back, spinning sharply as he brought the cue around in a wide arc. The cue contacted the man just under his left ear and he dropped like a stone.

Spike stood over him, panting as he flexed his hand around the cue. "Bloody wanker. You don't hit women!" He launched a kick at the man's sizeable midsection with his steel-toed work boot. "Ever!"

A crowd was starting to form, having gone completely unnoticed by Spike until someone shouted, "Hey! Get away from him or I'll call the cops!"

Spike turned slowly, pinning the man who'd shouted with an icy glare. "You'd do better to teach that git some soddin' manners." He pointed the cue at the blonde woman slumped in the driver's seat of his car. "Wanker was knockin' 'round a bird less than half his size, and if she hadn't managed to punt him in the goolies he'd probably be rapin' her right now." He stepped toward the man who was now looking at the would-be rapist with something akin to disgust. "Get the bloody hell out of my way. Got to get her some help."

The crowd parted and Spike walked around the car and gently pulled open the driver's door. He leaned down and laid his hand lightly on the woman's shoulder as he stuffed the cue back under the seat. "Can you slide over, pet? Want to get you out of here."

She nodded groggily and started to slide toward the open door, mumbling quietly, "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Spike stopped her by placing both hands on her shoulders. "Didn't mean for you to get out, luv. Just slide over so I can get in and I'll take you wherever you need to go."

She looked up at him and the tears swimming in her hazel-green eyes nearly undid him. "You will?"

"'Course I will. My mum raised a proper gentleman." His angry eyes flicked to the still unconscious man sprawled on the sidewalk. "Unlike some others I could mention. Bloody tosser."

She swallowed hard then scooted back until she bumped up against the passenger door. Spike leaned into the car and fished something out of the pile of stuff covering the back seat then wiped up the blood that was smeared on the leather. He tossed the soiled cloth into the back then slid into the car and slammed the door. The roar of the engine scattered the few people standing in front of the car, and those who turned to watch it leave saw Spike's hand stuck out the window flashing a two finger salute as the car turned the corner and sped out of sight.

Spike looked over at the woman hunched against the passenger door. "Where do you want me to take you, pet? The hospital?"

She started to shake her head then thought better of it and whispered instead, "No. No hospitals. Please."

He reached over the seat and fished around again, coming up with a sort of clean t-shirt. "Here, luv. You can use this to try to get the bleedin' to stop." She took the t-shirt and pressed it gently to her head. "You sure you don't want the hospital? You took quite a nasty knock."

"I'm sure."

"All right. Um… my name's Spike, luv. What's yours?"

The woman sat motionless for a few long minutes then the hand holding the t-shirt to her head clenched tightly in the fabric as she whispered. "I don't remember."


	2. Chapter 2 - Lemonade

Clean Slate

Chapter Two – Lemonade

"You don't remember your name? Bugger. Guess that knock was a bit nastier than I first thought. Um… what do you remember?"

"Kicking that guy and then you yelling at me."

Spike cringed. "Sorry 'bout that, but you scared me half to death. Don't usually go about shoutin' at birds… like I said, my mum raised a gentleman and she'd have tanned my arse for that if she'd heard me."

"Thank you."

"For what? Shoutin' at you?"

"No. For helping me."

"Oh… you're welcome. Uh… what should I call you then?"

"Um… "

"Do you have any ID or anything?"

She sat up a bit and started patting at her clothing with the hand not holding the shirt to her head. The only pocket she had was the large one on the front of her sweatshirt, but it was empty. She sagged back against the seat with a sigh. "No. If I had any, I probably lost it back there."

"Right. And if any of those sods clapped eyes on it, it's gone now."

"What exactly was that place?"

"A soup kitchen."

Her eyes widened. "What was I doing **there**?"

Spike shrugged. "Since you're not wearin' a staff uniform, I'd guess you were havin' a meal."

She looked down at the clothes she was wearing. They looked old, but aside from the blood soaking into her sweatshirt, they were clean and well cared for. She looked back over at Spike, her lower lip wobbling just a little. "I'm poor?"

Spike glanced at her then quickly looked away. "You might just be down on your luck. Happens to a lot of people."

His comment about the staff uniforms played across her mind and she reached out tentatively, laying her hand on his arm. "You've eaten there, haven't you? That's how you know about the uniforms."

Spike nodded with a pained expression. "Yeah. Spent some time on the streets a few years back. I'd have starved to death if it wasn't for that place."

She closed her eyes as fat tears started rolling down her cheeks. "So I'm homeless, too?"

Spike reached over and tentatively patted her thigh. "Don't worry, luv, we'll sort you out. Um… I could take you back to my flat if you'd like. Promise not to do anythin' inappropriate… no unwanted advances or anythin' of the sort… just a safe place to stay while we suss this out. All right?"

She whispered, "Okay. Thank you… again."

"No problem." He glanced over at her. "Still don't know what to call you, though."

She looked over at him shyly. "Who do I look like to you? What name do you think fits me?"

Spike waited until they'd stopped at a stoplight then he turned in his seat and looked her over. "Hmmm. Not sure. How 'bout we get you cleaned up a bit and I'll have a look at you when you're not covered in blood, 'cause the only name I'm comin' up with is Carrie."

A small smile broke through. "I guess that fits… right now, anyway."

Spike's eyebrow quirked. "You remember the book?"

"No, I remember the movie."

"Do you remember who you watched it with? Where? Anything?"

She closed her eyes. She could see the movie in her head… it was on a fairly large TV in a nice, airy room… but that's all she could make out. She could feel the other people there… two, maybe three… but she couldn't see their faces or hear their voices. She shook her head slowly as she opened her eyes. "No. I can remember watching it, but nothing else."

Spike shrugged. "It might come back. Least you remember something. That's promising, I suppose."

"You can call me Carrie if you want. It's as good a name as any until I figure out who I really am."

Spike smiled. "All right then, Carrie. Let's get you to my flat and get you cleaned up." He turned another corner then nodded toward the right. "Hospital's just over there. Wouldn't be any trouble to…"

"Thanks, but no. I don't think my head's hurt that bad… and if I go there, they'll ask questions I don't have the answers to and I just really don't want to deal with that right now. Okay?"

Spike said quietly, "All right, but if it's worse than you think when we get you cleaned up or you lose consciousness at all then I'm cartin' you right to hospital. Not about to have you die on me."

"That's fair, I guess. Thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome, and you don't need to keep thankin' me, pet. Just doin' what any proper bloke should do for a lady."

They drove along in silence, Carrie/Buffy looking silently out the window, hoping that something would jog her memory. After several blocks, she turned to Spike and asked quietly, "Where are we?"

"Almost there, luv."

"No… I mean…"

"Oh. Uh… Sunnydale."

"Sunnydale? Where's that?"

"California."

"California. I'm from California."

"Apparently, yeah."

"And you're not. You're English."

"Yeah. Grew up in London."

Carrie nodded then turned and looked back out the window, still pressing the shirt to her head. Spike glanced at her as much as he could while he maneuvered the car through the traffic. He pulled into the parking lot of a rather large and quite busy auto repair business then drove around the garage toward a smallish building located at the back of the lot. He parked next to the building then shut the car off and turned in his seat, leaning back against the driver's door. "Carrie?"

She turned to face him, adopting a similar posture. "Yeah?"

"Uh… we're here. This is where I live."

"I kind of figured that."

Spike tilted his head. "You know, for someone in your situation, you don't seem all that fussed."

"My situation?"

"Well, yeah. You're apparently homeless, you've been hit hard enough to make you forget who you are, and you're sittin' in a car with a strange bloke about to accompany him into his flat, yet you don't seem the least bit worried that I might turn out to be like that git from the alley."

Carrie smiled slightly. "Are you?"

"No."

"Then why should I be worried? You haven't done anything but help me since I stumbled out in front of your car. Would it make you feel better if I was crying and hysterical?"

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Uh… no… not really."

Carrie smiled brightly, taking Spike's breath away. "Well, that's good then, because I don't feel like I'm a hysterical type female."

"Okay, but what about your memory loss? Aren't you concerned about that?"

Carrie shrugged. "Yeah, but there's not a lot I can do about it right now. It'll come back or it won't and my head hurts way too much to worry about it."

"How're you feelin' aside from your head? Do you have any other injuries? I didn't really check you over all that closely."

Carrie closed her eyes and catalogued herself from head to toe then opened them and looked over at Spike. "Nothing else hurts except my head. My stomach is a little queasy, but that's probably because of my headache."

"All right then, let's get you inside and you can have a wash up. Think I've got some clothes that'll work until we can get something else."

"How do we find out who I am?" Her eyes widened suddenly and she gasped, "Oh God! What if I have kids? Did you see any kids?"

Spike shook his head. "No, I didn't. Wasn't lookin' for 'em, though, so…"

Carrie leaned back, dropping the bloody t-shirt to the seat as she tugged the front of her sweatshirt up and looked at her stomach. She pushed the waistband of her pants down then trailed her fingertips over her smooth, flat belly. Spike just sat there staring with his mouth hanging open, blushing right to the roots of his hair when her bare left breast was revealed. When she tugged her clothing back into place, he shook himself, dearly hoping she hadn't noticed his gaping, and almost missed it when she said, "No stretch marks. I've never been pregnant." She blew out a relieved breath. "So no kids wandering around wondering where their mommy is."

Spike had to clear his throat before he could say, "Right. Uh… that's good then."

"Yeah, that's good. So how do we find out who I am?"

Spike turned and opened his door, motioning for Carrie to stay put while he walked around to her door and opened it for her. "Probably ought to let you rest for a bit, pet. I've got work in the morning, 'till noon or so, but after that I can take you around to the shelters, see if anyone recognizes you."

"And if nobody does? What do I do then?"

Spike shrugged. "You could stay at one of the shelters and they'd help you, or..." He ducked his head and smiled shyly. "I don't mind havin' a flatmate if you don't mind livin' with a bit of a slob."

Carrie smiled as Spike took her hand and helped her out of the car. "Are we talking slob like leaving the dishes in the sink for a few days or slob like I'll have to shovel a path to the bathroom?"

Spike laughed as he led her to the door. "I try to keep things tidy, but bein' that I'm a bloke, it's probably not up to your standards."

Carrie waited while Spike fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, since I don't remember what my standards are, we'll just have to figure it out together." She laid her hand on his arm, stopping him from opening the door. "You don't have pairs of funky underwear scattered all over, do you? Because I think that might be one of my standards."

Spike chuckled as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. "Don't wear any, so I'm gonna have to go with no on that one."

He stepped through the door, completely missing the blush staining Carrie's cheeks as her eyes traveled down his back and glued themselves to his butt. She felt a wave of warmth rush through her and she snapped her eyes closed as she stepped through the door, muttering under her breath, "Hmmm. Guess this means I'm not gay."

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Carrie stepped into the living room, nearly swimming in one of Spike's t-shirts and an old pair of boxers he'd found crammed into the back of one his drawers. Her hair was damp and hanging loose, brushed through with only her fingers, and Spike smiled up at her as she sat beside him on the comfortably well-worn couch. She nodded toward the motorcycle parked on a tarp on the other side of the small coffee table then at the various parts and tools scattered around the room. "Uh… I like what you've done with the place and I'm guessing that's not a sculpture?"

Spike chuckled. "No. I work on it some evenings while I watch telly. I've nearly got it running; just need a couple more parts and a few days to put them in."

Carrie looked over at the doorway that led to the kitchen. "And how do you plan to get it out of here when you're done? I don't think it'll fit through the door."

Spike got up and walked across the room, pulling back the floor to ceiling curtains that Carrie had assumed covered a window. They revealed a set of French doors that opened onto a small bricked patio. "Brought it in this way." He opened one of the doors and nodded toward the patio furniture. "Want to sit outside for a bit? It's a nice day and I could bring you something to drink."

Carrie got to her feet with a smile. "Hmmm… being waited on by a hot guy. Think I could get used to this."

They both blushed at the same time and Carrie dropped her eyes to the floor, letting her hair cover her flaming cheeks as Spike mumbled something unintelligible and scurried off toward the kitchen.

Carrie was curled up in a deck chair staring at nothing and absently rubbing her belly when Spike stepped out onto the patio. He set a tall glass of lemonade on the small table then sat down, clutching a bottle of water in his left hand. "Didn't know what you liked, so I hope lemonade is all right. It's from a mix, though, not fresh."

Carrie smiled shyly and picked up the glass. "A mix is fine and I guess we'll find out if I like it or not." She took a long drink then licked her lips as she set the glass back down. "That's really good, so lemonade is apparently something I like."

Spike took a swig of his water, his eyes focused on her lips, then he swallowed heavily as he tried to focus on something else. Anything else. He leaned forward like he was preparing to stand. "Uh… yeah. Um… know you probably just had lunch, but are you hungry at all? Got some steaks I could grill up or… do you remember if you eat meat? Are you a vegetarian or a… what's it… a vegan?"

Carrie shrugged. "I'm not really hungry right now and my stomach is still a little queasy, but the thought of eating a steak doesn't gross me out, so I must not be a vegetarian."

Spike slumped back into his chair. "Oh. Okay. So, what'd you want to do then?"

"We could just talk, I guess. I don't really know anything about me, but you could tell me about you. How'd you end up in Sunnydale?"

"Da moved us here after my mum died, and when he died, I stayed."

"Sorry about your parents. How old were you? Uh… how old are you now?"

"Was fourteen when we moved here, eighteen when Da passed, and I'm twenty-five now."

Carrie looked him over appraisingly. "You don't look that old. If I had to guess, I'd say eighteen… twenty at the oldest."

Spike grinned. "Thanks, pet. Know I look like a kid… bit of a problem sometimes when I'm tryin' to buy fags. I'll probably still get carded when I'm sixty."

Carrie's brow wrinkled. "Fags?"

Spike chuckled. "Cigarettes."

Now her nose wrinkled. "Oh."

"Don't worry, pet, don't really smoke all that much, and when I do, I smoke outside 'cause I don't like the way it makes my flat smell."

Carrie shrugged. "They're your lungs, Spike." She looked at him then smiled shyly. "Your name's not really Spike, is it?"

He shook his head. "No. It's William, but nobody's called me that for years, not since Da passed."

"So where'd Spike come from?"

He looked down at his hands, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "My first girlfriend… well… only girlfriend, really. She… uh… it's because… um." He looked up at her. "She said…"

Carrie held up her hand. "You don't need to explain." She dipped her head slightly then peeked at him through her hair. "So how old do I look to you?"

Spike sat up a bit and looked her over. "Eighteen? Maybe nineteen? 'S hard to tell with your hair coverin' your face."

Carrie reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face. Her left hand bumped against the cut on her temple and she winced sharply and pulled in a quick breath. "Ow."

A small trickle of blood dripped down from the newly reopened cut and Spike jumped to his feet. "Hang on and I'll get the first aid kit. I should've done that as soon as you were out of the shower. I'm sorry." He started for the house and Carrie heard him mutter to himself under his breath, "Nice one, you git. Let the girl sit there bleedin' and in pain 'cause you can't get your mind off her lips. You're a right prat, you are."

Carrie's fingers came up to brush across her lips as she sat and stared at the door then she startled slightly when Spike suddenly stepped through it. He knelt on the patio beside her chair and held up a square of gauze. "Let me sop up the blood and then I'll see how bad it is. Don't have the stuff here to stitch you up, but I can get it if you need it."

"Okay." She tried not to wince when the pad was pressed to the cut for a few minutes then pulled away.

Spike spent the whole time staring at his fingers, trying not to notice how her leg kept brushing against his hip. "Doesn't look like you'll need stitches. A couple of butterfly plasters should do the trick." He quickly cleaned the cut with something that stung a lot, then he smeared some antibiotic cream on it and applied three small butterfly bandages. He laid a small square of gauze over his handiwork and taped it down then used a wet wipe to clean off the blood that had dripped down her cheek. "There. All better. You'll have one hell of a bruise, but the cut shouldn't leave much of a scar." He stuffed the bandage wrappers and soiled gauze into a small bag then put the unused supplies back into the first aid kit. "How's your head feel? Need any aspirin or anything?" He dug around in the kit. "Got Tylenol... uh… if you take it with a bit of liquor, it works quite well. I don't have any here, but I could get some."

"My head hurts a lot, but I get the feeling that alcohol and I aren't friends… and with the way my stomach feels right now…"

Spike motioned toward her glass of lemonade. "You could take it with that and it'll still knock the pain back a bit."

"Okay." Carrie picked up the glass of lemonade while Spike dug the Tylenol out of the first aid kit and shook two capsules into his palm. He held them out to her and she slipped them into her mouth then took a drink of lemonade, grimacing as the pills slid down her throat. "Blech. Don't like swallowing pills."

Spike's gaze was fixed on her lips again as he unconsciously leaned forward. His lips pressed lightly against hers and she gasped, her eyes widening as her stomach suddenly lurched. Spike drew back with a question in his eyes and her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she fumbled the glass back onto the table. "I think I'm gonna puke." She bolted to her feet and raced for the bathroom, leaving a stunned and mortified Spike kneeling next to an empty chair.


	3. Chapter 3 - Toast

Clean Slate

Chapter Three – Toast

When Carrie stepped out onto the patio after emptying the contents of her stomach and rinsing out her mouth, she found it empty. Spike's water, her glass of lemonade, and the first aid kit were missing as well, and she turned back to the house, following the sounds of Spike moving around the kitchen. She stepped into the small room wearing a shy smile, only to have it fall from her face when she saw Spike's grim look.

He glanced up at her then quickly looked back down at the piece of toast he was spreading a light coating of butter on. "Figured you'd want somethin' to settle your stomach." He held out the plate of toast without meeting her gaze then stuffed his hands into his pockets after she'd taken the plate from him. "Never had a bird react that way to… uh… never mind, it's not important. Um… I'm sorry, Carrie. I promised you no unwanted advances and I couldn't even go a couple of hours without breakin' that promise. I'll completely understand if you want nothin' more to do with me and I'll take you wherever you want to go after you've eaten that."

Carrie set the plate on the counter and took a step toward Spike, only to have him take a step back. She took another step and he did the same, so she continued until he ran out of room and was backed up against the refrigerator. She reached out tentatively and lightly grasped his upper arm. "I'm not mad or upset or anything, Spike. It wasn't you kissing me that made me throw up; it was just that my stomach was already upset and I guess the lemonade just tipped it over the edge. I liked your kiss and it wasn't unwanted. Unexpected maybe, but not unwanted." She dropped her hand and backed up a step, dipping her head slightly. "I really wouldn't mind if you wanted to do it again."

Spike looked over the small blonde woman standing in his kitchen wearing his clothes with a bandage on her temple then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Carrie, but I took advantage of you once and I won't do it again. You're hurt and confused and have quite enough to deal with at the moment and I won't add to your distress. 'Sides, you probably already have a bloke out there worried sick right now and I didn't consider that before I…"

Carrie lifted her gaze and fixed Spike with an angry glare. "Then where was he? If I have a boyfriend, then where was he when that guy was attacking me? Why was I alone?"

Spike flinched a little at the fire in her eyes and said quietly, "Don't know, pet, but until we suss out who you are…"

Carrie heaved a sigh then nodded sadly. "It would be better if we didn't get involved with each other… aside from being friends, that is. We are friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we're friends… as long as you eat your toast." He smiled slightly as he stepped around her and snagged his keys off the hook by the back door. "I'm gonna go get some stuff you can eat that won't upset your stomach any more, crackers, soup, 7up, stuff like that. Anything in particular you fancy?"

She turned to face him and leaned her hip against the counter. "Food-wise, just get whatever you normally eat, but could you please get me a brush and a toothbrush? And I promise I'll pay you back for everything somehow… if I can't get a job, then I'll keep this place clean and do your laundry or something, but I will pay you back."

Spike's smile widened just a bit. "Friends don't need to pay each other back, and I don't want you waitin' on me. For now, let's just work on findin' out who you are then we'll worry 'bout what comes next, yeah?" He motioned toward the plate of toast. "Please eat that, and I'll be back quick as I can." He stopped just before he stepped through the door and asked, "If I leave you here by yourself, you're not gonna clean me out, are you? Make off with my telly? This whole 'memory loss' thing isn't just an elaborate ruse to rob me blind, is it?"

Carrie chuckled and shook her head. "No. All your stuff will be right where you left it. I won't even snoop or anything. I promise."

He nodded. "Right then. See you soon."

XX

XXXX

XX

Carrie ate the toast slowly as she sat on the couch waiting for Spike to come back. It stayed down and seemed to help settle her stomach a little bit, so she chanced another glass of lemonade, drinking it in small sips. When that stayed down, she tried the Tylenol again. Her stomach lurched a bit, but everything settled after a few moments and she sat, sipping at the rest of her lemonade.

The kitchen door opened and Carrie smiled as the sound of boots clomping across the tile floor reached the living room. She stood from the couch and turned to face the kitchen as the owner of the boots stepped through the door, but it wasn't Spike.

A tall, dark-haired man came to a startled halt a step past the kitchen door then stood and looked her over before saying quietly, "Uh… hi."

Carrie smiled tentatively. "Hi."

He glanced toward the back of the apartment where the bedroom and bathroom were located then looked out at the patio before settling his eyes back on Carrie. "Who are you?"

"Um… I'm a friend of Spike's. My name's Carrie. Who are you?"

"I'm also a friend of Spike's, along with being his landlord and boss. My name's Xander."

Carrie's eyes widened. "Oh! Is it okay for me to be here? Spike's not going to be in trouble, is he? I'll leave if…"

Xander held up his hand then shook his head. "Uh… no… he can have guests if he wants, it's just… um…"

"Um… what?"

"Well… uh… he never has. As far as I know, he always goes to their place."

"Whose place?"

Xander shrugged. "Whoever he's dating or shagging or whatever he calls it. Man, that guy has girls falling all over him pretty much all the time. I think I get so much business from the college-age girls just because Spike's so pretty."

A voice drifted in from the kitchen. "Pretty? I am NOT pretty, you wanker!"

Xander chuckled as Spike stepped through the kitchen door and punched him on the shoulder. "So why are we always flooded with a bunch of sorority girls needing their… uh… oil changed?"

Spike smirked. "Because of **your** wife. She's the one who made me take my shirt off then smeared me with grease… which was a soddin' pain in the arse to wash off, by the way… so she could take my picture for the garage's adverts. And she's the one who makes the appointments. Not my fault she schedules me to handle all the young birds who need work done."

Xander nudged Spike. "And yet I've never heard you complain about it once."

Spike glanced at Carrie then smiled a little guiltily. "Well… you know I can't hit the clubs, so how else am I supposed to meet people? Cruise the frozen food section at the market lookin' for bored housewives?"

Carrie was a little bit confused. Xander made it seem like Spike was a player, going out with a different girl every night, but Spike hadn't done anything so far to suggest that he was anything but a gentleman. A very shy, quiet, respectful gentleman with a little bit of a playful side. She laughed quietly. "Well, you could always almost run them over with your car." She lifted a hand and pressed it lightly against the bandage on her temple. "That's how you met me."

Xander yelped, "What? He hit you with that big ass car? Why aren't you in the hospital? Or dead?"

Carrie shook her head. "He didn't hit me and it wasn't his fault. I kind of stumbled out in front of him because…" She trailed off and looked at Spike.

He questioned her with a raised eyebrow and she nodded slightly. Spike turned, fully facing Xander for the first time, and motioned toward the couch. "Have a seat and I'll explain it after I've put the cold food away. Be right back."

Xander grasped his arm before he could leave the living room. "What happened to your face, Spike?"

Spike looked confused. "What?"

"Your jaw. It's bruised."

Spike lifted his hand and prodded gently at his jaw. "Oh, that. Took a punch."

Xander scowled. "You told me, Spike, no, you **promised** me when I gave you a job and let you move in here that you were done with all that shit."

Spike's eyebrows went up. "I am, Xan."

"Then explain the punch. I'm not gonna sit here and watch you try to kill yourself with the drugs, the fighting, the stealing… I just… I can't do that again, Spike. Going through it once was bad enough."

Spike turned away from Carrie and spoke quietly, probably thinking that she wouldn't hear, but she did. "I'm not, Xander, I swear it." He turned over his arms, showing Xander that there were no new track marks among the faded scars on the insides of his elbows. "I'm not using, and I didn't start the fight. I know I'm an addict and always will be, so I'm not even drinking. You can search the flat if you'd like. I don't have anythin' besides my fags and some Tylenol, not even beer. I know I'll never be able to pay you back for what you've done for me and I promise you… I don't want to die anymore."

Xander **would** search the apartment if he thought for one second that Spike was using again, but he didn't see anything in Spike's features to suggest he was lying, and Spike was a crap liar, so Xander nodded. "Okay. Go do whatever and then you can tell me what happened today."

XX

XXXX

XX

"Wow. So you can't remember your name or where you live or anything?"

Carrie shook her head. "No. And if it wasn't for Spike, well… I don't know what would've happened to me."

Xander chucked a fist lightly against Spike's chin. "That's our wittle Spikey. Such a helpful guy."

Spike scowled playfully at Xander. "Bite me."

Xander laughed. "Nah… you'd like it too much." He focused his gaze on Carrie again. "So what are you gonna do now?"

Carrie shrugged. "Spike said he'd take me around to the shelters and see if anybody knows me, but if not…" she trailed off and dropped her eyes to her lap, "…then I don't know."

Spike looked at Xander. "I said she could stay here, if that's all right with you."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. Could probably give you a job or something, too, if you want, until you figure stuff out. Anya could use some help in the office if you're up for filing and making phone calls to track down parts."

Carrie lifted her head, wearing an expression of surprise. "You'd do that? You don't even know me."

Spike chuckled. "He likes takin' in strays, pet. It's his hobby or somethin'. Nearly everybody who works here was down on their luck or in a bit of a bind when he gave 'em a job. He even bought Willow and Oz a house."

Carrie's eyes widened dramatically as Xander waved his hand in embarrassment. "I didn't really buy it FOR them. It's a rental property and they pay rent." He shrugged. "It's a good investment."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, it might be if you charged 'em anything close to what you pay the mortgage company."

Xander scowled. "Bite me, Blondie."

Spike laughed and nudged Xander's arm. "Nah… you'd like it too much. And Anya would be pissed that I was movin' in on her bloke. She's made it quite clear that she's the only one allowed to bite you."

Xander's face flushed scarlet and Carrie hid a smile behind her hand. Spike smirked then raised an eyebrow. "Not that I mind the visit, but what're you doin' here? I didn't miss an appointment, did I? Didn't think I had any 'til tomorrow."

Xander reached into his pocket and fished out a small box. "One of the parts you ordered came in and I was dropping it off."

Spike took the box and tore it open. "Ta. I'll get this in tonight and then I only need one more part and she'll be fixed. Can't wait to take her out."

Xander smiled. "And when you get picked up for speeding and reckless driving, make sure you call my cell and not the house. Anya'd be pissed if you woke her up so I can come bail you out of jail… again."

Spike laughed. "Not gonna get pinched, mate, I promise. I'll obey the laws when I'm inside city limits."

Xander smirked. "And when you're not?"

Spike shrugged. "Nobody in the desert to see me 'cept the wildlife."

Carrie considered Spike as the two men continued to banter back and forth. Apparently he was a lot more complicated than she'd first thought. She was a little nervous about the whole drugs thing, but he'd assured Xander that he was clean, so… She shrugged inwardly. Nothing she could really do about it anyway. The only people she knew were the ones in this room, and considering that she didn't know anything about herself… she could be a hooker or something for all she knew, although with the way she'd been dressed, that was unlikely… she really couldn't afford to be judgmental about their pasts. She'd just have to go on what they'd shown her so far. She dipped her head slightly and looked over at Spike through her bangs… and she really liked what she saw. _I really hope I DON'T have a boyfriend._

There was a sudden chirping noise and Xander reached for his pocket, fishing out a cell phone. He looked at the screen and smiled then pushed a button and put the phone up to his ear. "Hey, babe."

"I'm at his place right now. What'd you need?"

"Okay, I'll send him over. Love you. Bye." He pushed another button then tucked the phone into his pocket and looked at Spike. "One of your regulars just showed up at the garage. Said something's wrong with her car and she won't let anyone else look at it. Would you mind checking it out?"

Spike threw a quick glance at Carrie then nodded. "Sure. Which one is it?"

"Anya didn't say."

Spike stood up from the couch. "All right." He looked over at Carrie. "I'll be gone for a bit, pet. Will you be okay here by yourself?"

Carrie frowned as a rush of jealously washed through her. She barely knew Spike and they weren't even together, but she suddenly couldn't stand the thought of another woman fawning all over him… not that the mystery 'regular' necessarily would be… maybe she was an older motherly type who thought of Spike as the son she'd never had… Yeah, right, who was she kidding? Even a cane-wielding old granny would be drooling over Spike. God, just look at the man! Any woman who wasn't a lesbian… and even a few who were… would be drooling over him.

Carrie shook herself. She knew she'd have to analyze these strange and slightly disturbing feelings and thoughts, but… not right now. She looked toward the door. "Could I come with you? I promise to stay out of your way."

Spike motioned toward her clothing. "You want to go to the garage in my boxers?"

Carrie blushed as she looked down at her bare legs. "Oh… right. Um… guess I'll just stay here then."

Xander stood up. "Anya's got some spare clothes in the office that should fit you. I could send her over with them if you want."

Carrie shook her head, pulling her legs up onto the couch to curl them underneath her. "No, that's okay. I don't want to be any trouble and she's probably busy. I'll be fine here."

Xander smiled warmly. "It's no trouble. Really. She won't mind."

Spike suddenly left the room, headed for his bedroom. He came back a handful of seconds later holding a long, leather duster. "You could wear this over to the garage and change in the loo… er… the restroom."

Carrie eyed the coat and then the man holding it and smiled. "Um… okay. Thanks."

Xander's eyebrows tried to crawl into his hairline as he watched Carrie stand up from the couch and slip into the coat that Spike was holding for her. Spike turned to face him as Carrie walked toward the bathroom, muttering something about checking her hair. Xander watched her until she was out of sight then said quietly, "You're letting her wear your duster? You never let anyone wear that thing. Hell, you barely let anyone touch it." Spike shrugged and gave Xander a shy smile and Xander sighed, "Geez, Spike, you barely know her… **She** barely knows her… and you've got it this bad for her already?"

Spike shrugged again and muttered, "Just somethin' about her, Xan."

Xander sighed again and turned toward the door. "Let's just hope it's not the same **something** Drusilla had. Like I said, Spike, I can't watch you try to kill yourself again if things don't work out and she leaves you."


	4. Chapter 4 - Water

Clean Slate

Chapter Four – Water

Carrie thanked Anya for the clothes again then asked where Spike was. Anya pointed through the large window in her office that overlooked the shop. "He's at the far end in the biggest bay. We had to give him that one so we could knock out the wall and build a room for a couch and a few chairs."

Carrie's eyebrows went up in surprise. "You built a waiting room for his bay?"

Anya laughed. "Not a 'waiting' room, a 'watching' room. His customers kept getting in the way of our other mechanics and somebody was going to end up getting hurt."

Carrie frowned. "Can customers be in the garage? Isn't that against the law or something?"

"It's not really against the law, but we can be sued or fined if someone gets hurt. We're good with the regulatory agencies as long as his customers stay in the room and don't enter the garage."

"Oh. Is it okay if I go watch?"

Xander stepped through the door into the office just as Anya nodded and said, "Sure, just go out the front and walk around. I can't let you go through the garage because you're not an employee."

Xander said, "Yeah, she is."

Anya turned to look at him wearing a smile. "Another one?"

"Yep."

Anya turned back to Carrie. "Okay. Go on through the garage and I'll have your employee packet ready when you get back."

Xander shook his head. "She's an off-the-books employee for now, Ahn." He waved at the window. "Go ahead out to Spike, Carrie. I'll explain everything to Anya."

Carrie nodded and started for the door that Xander had just stepped through. "Thanks, Xander." She stepped out into the noisy, busy shop, being careful to stay close to the back wall. Most of the mechanics nodded at her as she passed and she smiled back. Her smile melted into a frown, though, when she finally caught sight of Spike… and the busty brunette who was standing at the very edge of the 'watching room' with her eyes glued to his butt.

Spike was bent over the side of the engine compartment of an expensive little sports car, stretching to reach something, and his shirt had come untucked from his jeans, baring a pale stretch of skin above his waistband. He stood up suddenly and gripped the hem of his shirt in his hands then stripped it off and tossed it behind him onto a rolling toolbox.

There were two audible gasps, Carrie's the loudest out of the two, and Spike's head turned toward her. He smiled brightly and held out a hand as he walked over. His mouth was moving, and she thought that words were maybe coming out of it, but she couldn't hear them over the words circling her own brain. _'Yum, yum, yum, major yum yummy.'_ He was beautiful. An Adonis. All smooth skin and sculptured muscles and Carrie suddenly reached up to wipe a hand across her mouth, sure that she was drooling.

His hand on her arm broke through the drooling yummies and Carrie startled, looking up at him with a scarlet face. He was still smiling as he asked, "You all right, pet?"

She nodded dumbly then waved weakly at the couch. "I'm fine… uh… just need to sit down… or something."

He led her over to the couch and helped her sit then stood back with a look of concern. "You need something to drink?"

She shook her head, finally noticing the hair-scorching glare the busty brunette woman was shooting her way. "No. I'm fine. Um… you can go do whatever it was you were doing."

The brunette piped up, "Do you know what's wrong with it, Spike? I going to a party tonight and I need my car."

Spike turned to face her, wearing a patient smile. "Not quite yet, Cordelia, but I'll have it runnin' like a top in time for your party."

Cordelia stepped close to Spike as he started walking toward her car then she reached up and ran a fingernail down his bare chest as she batted her eyelashes at him. "You could come, if you want. It'll be fun."

Spike cleared his throat as he threw a glance back at Carrie that was sprinkled with a bit of shame. Having her here watching how some of his customers treated him suddenly seemed like a monumentally bad idea. "Uh… sounds like a good time, luv, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Cordelia leaned close and said into Spike's ear, making sure it was loud enough for Carrie to hear, "If you don't want to go to the party, we could always go to my place. I haven't had you in a while, Spike, and I miss you. You know you're the only reason I even set foot in this part of town."

Spike stepped away from Cordelia as he nodded toward the blonde on the couch who looked like she really wanted to tear all of Cordelia's hair out… or maybe set it on fire. And that shouldn't make his stomach flutter quite as much as it was, should it? He cleared his throat again. "As much fun as that would be, pet, I… uh… have a guest, and it wouldn't be polite to leave her on her own the first night of her visit."

Cordelia looked over at her and Carrie had the distinct impression that she was being weighed and measured… and found wanting. She put on the bravest smile she could muster and met Cordelia's gaze. Cordelia smirked then turned back to Spike wearing a sultry smile. "We could all go to the party, I guess, just as long as I get you to myself for a while. There's gonna be a ton of people there, so she won't be bored while we're… busy."

Spike was wearing the expression of a trapped animal as he looked between the two women. Before Carrie had stumbled into his life, he'd have taken Cordelia up on her offer in a hot minute. She was a brilliant shag, and as long as he focused on the physical aspect of the act instead of the shame he felt, he was able to enjoy the experience. He cared nothing for her, but showing her a good time – he strove for at least three 'good times' every time they got together – ensured that she'd keep bringing her business to Xander's garage, even though it was located in a part of town she usually didn't want to be seen in. And she'd tell her friends, who would bring **their** business to the garage… and the cycle would continue. But now…

Carrie was seething with jealousy, and although she knew she had absolutely no right to be, she was still seething. Spike wasn't her boyfriend, he wasn't really her anything, he was just a guy she'd met less than four hours ago. And it was very possible that she already had a boyfriend out there somewhere. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. If she gave in to the jealousy and made a scene by freaking out on the brunette, Spike could very well lose Cordelia as a customer, and Carrie didn't want to do anything that could possibly cost Spike his job if the heinous skank complained to Xander.

Carrie suddenly wondered what kind of person she'd been if the phrase 'heinous skank' had been part of her vocabulary. _Maybe **I'm** the heinous skank. God, I barely know him and all I want to do is drag him to his bedroom and do lots of naughty things to him for a really long time._

Carrie decided that coming to the garage to watch Spike work had been a horribly bad idea. She stood up slowly and laid a hand over her stomach. "Spike? Um… I'm not feeling very good, so I'm gonna go lay down and take a nap. Don't worry about me tonight; you can go to the party or… do whatever. I'll be fine and we can… uh… catch up tomorrow." She turned and walked away without looking back; not wanting to see the look of triumph that she was certain Cordelia was wearing.

XX

XXXX

XX

Carrie woke when she heard Spike's boots in the kitchen, but she kept her eyes closed as he stepped into the living room. He stopped then sighed quietly and she heard him turn and start walking toward his bedroom. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling while she listened to him move around and then it got quiet. She was about to sit up and look for him when his face suddenly appeared over the back of the couch. She squeaked in surprise and her hand flew up to cover her heart as she said, "Geez, Spike! Bell. Neck. Look into it."

He chuckled and moved around the couch then sat down on the coffee table. "I changed the sheets and stuff on the bed for you."

"What? Why? I don't want to kick you out of your bed. I'm fine right here. "

He smiled shyly. "It's no problem, pet, and you're not kickin' me out. I mostly kip on the sofa anyway."

Carrie sat up; twisting the light blanket she'd taken off the back of the couch in her fingers. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. And it wouldn't be proper to have my guest on the sofa."

"Your guest. Right. Um… guess I'll go lay down in there then." She made to stand up then stopped. "Uh… unless you need to get ready for the party, or… to go see Cordelia. Are you going to see her?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"I know I don't have any right to ask this, but… do you… um… see… other customers? Xander made it sound like…"

Spike nodded, wearing a look of shame. "I've **seen** more than a few of 'em, yeah. I'm not that talented a mechanic, luv, and I've no other legally marketable skills," he motioned towards his face and torso, "so I use what I've got to keep 'em comin' to the garage." He took a deep breath. "And on that note, there's some things I need to tell you so you can decide if you want to stay here with me. I'll still take you around tomorrow and try to help you find out who you are, but if you decide that I've too much baggage and skeletons to suit you, then I'll help you get settled somewhere else."

Carrie shook her head. "You don't have to tell me anything."

"Yeah, I do. I'd hoped to wait a bit 'fore I told you about my past, get you sorted first… hell… let you get to know me some, but that worked out about as well as things usually do for me." Carrie opened her mouth and Spike held up a hand. "Please. I don't want you enterin' into any kind of relationship with me, just friends or otherwise, until you know what I'm about. It wouldn't be fair to you if you found out later and that information hurt you. Best get everything out in the open before there's any… attachments… between us."

Carrie nodded. "Okay, Spike, I'll listen."

Spike got up off the table and sat down at the other end of the couch, sinking into the cushions with a tired sigh. "I haven't always been the dashing bloke I am today. I was… a complete dork… nerd… loser… take your pick. I had no friends in England and only one friend after I moved here. And girls? Mostly they just laughed at me or ignored me, but there was one… Her name was Drusilla. I met her about six months before my father died, and she was, well… batshit crazy is probably the most accurate description. She was into some bad stuff…"

Carrie whispered, "Drugs?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah. I tried to get her off 'em at first, and she fought me tooth and nail the whole way, but we were makin' progress, and then… my father died, and I…" He took a deep, pained breath. "I went off the rails a bit. Was havin' a tough time dealin' with his death and she said she had somethin' that could stop the pain for a little while. It did, but then I'd start hurtin' again and she'd offer to make the pain stop. Didn't take long for me to stop tryin' to get her clean and instead take what she was offerin', and for a while all we did was get high and shag like rabbits."

Carrie flinched slightly then whispered, "Which drugs did you use?"

He chuckled quietly. "Most of 'em, truth be told. I've tried nearly every drug there is at least once, but heroin was my drug of choice."

"But you're clean now, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I've been clean nearly five years."

"Well, that's not that bad, I guess, and hearing about it doesn't make me not want to be here."

"That's not the worst of it, pet." Spike closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. "I've done… God, pet, drug dealers don't just **give** heroin away… and bein' that neither of us could hold down a job… She was gonna do it, but I couldn't let her, could I? Even high as a bleedin' kite, I'm still the gentleman my mum raised, so I did it." He motioned to his face and torso again. "Used what I had to make money the only way I could."

Carrie gasped. "Women paid you for s..sex?"

Spike voiced a bitter chuckle. "Sometimes it was a woman, but mostly… it wasn't."

Carrie swallowed hard as she tried to wrap her mind around what he'd just told her. "Oh. So you're bi?"

Another bitter chuckle. "No. I'm not. Not even a little. Don't get me wrong, sometimes it was… pleasurable, and I get why blokes shag other blokes, but I'm just not wired that way. I like birds, and only birds, but I did what I had to do. For her. Didn't tell her what I was doin' to get the drugs, of course. Told her I'd started sellin' 'em myself… and I tried to get my dealer to let me sling for 'im, but he decided that my value lay in… other areas. He set up most of my… appointments, but I still had to go out on my own 'cause he took most of what I earned as payment on what we already owed him." Spike shifted slightly without opening his eyes. "I made sure to use protection, though. Didn't earn as much as I could have if I'd let 'em ride bareback, but…"

"You told Xander that you didn't want to die **anymore** , so if you wanted to die back then, why did you worry about protection?"

Spike lifted his head and opened his eyes, but he couldn't quite meet her gaze. "Didn't want to die then, well, most of the time. Dru leavin' me is what made me start to want to end it all, but even then, I used protection. It didn't matter to me at that point if I lived or died, but I didn't want to go out from my bits fallin' off."

"Why'd she leave?"

Spike's gaze had settled on his knees. "She showed up at our dealer's place, I guess lookin' for me, and caught me with one of my… customers. Seein' her boyfriend bent over a table takin' it up the arse was apparently a bit more than she could handle. I tried to go after her, explain that I was doin' it for her, but the bloke was holdin' me down and wasn't about to let me go until he'd finished… had to get his money's worth, you know… and by the time I got back to where we were stayin', all her things were gone. Haven't seen her since."

Carrie's voice was very quiet as she said, "Oh."

"Yeah. After that I… what do they call it? Spiraled down. I started spendin' more time on the streets turnin' tricks instead of turnin' 'em for my dealer 'cause I made more that way and could stay high nearly all the time. Workin' the streets isn't the safest of pastimes, though, and I started havin' to fight to defend my territory and keep other junkies from stealin' my stash."

"So where does Xander come in?"

"I've known Xan since I moved here. He was that one friend I had… my best mate when we were in school. Spent most of his time at my house when my Da was still alive. Obviously, we traveled slightly different paths after graduation. He took over his father's business when the abusive old lush finally died, and used the insurance money to turn it from a rundown shithole, with one usually sloshed mechanic, into what it is today, while I embarked on my stellar career of whorin' myself out for drugs. We kept in touch, if you count me ringin' him three or four times to come bail my arse out of jail keepin' in touch. He'd take me to his house, clean me up and feed me, and then tell me I was welcome to stay and he'd help me kick the heroin. I'd agree and tell him thank you and then I'd be gone by the time he woke up the next morning. A few months after Dru left, I called him 'cause I'd been pinched for fighting. I was a right mess – strung out, hungry, hadn't showered in an age, and I was covered in another bloke's blood – but he still paid the bail and took me home. We did the whole routine – cleanin', feedin', offers of help… and I waited 'til he'd gone to sleep then slipped out a window with a pocketful of his cash and his mother's wedding ring."

Spike suddenly stood up and went into the kitchen, coming out a few seconds later with two bottles of water. He offered one to Carrie and she took it, but didn't twist the top off to drink. She just held it tightly in her hands as Spike settled back down on the couch. "Then what happened?"

"I hit rock bottom about three weeks later. I'd shot all the dosh I'd stolen from Xan up my arm, I hadn't eaten in four days – couldn't even get it together enough to go to the soup kitchen – I'd been in several fights… mostly on the losin' end 'cause I was so strung out… and I looked so bad I couldn't even pick up a trick. I broke into the garage. I meant to steal anything I could carry out of there to sell for more drugs, but when I got into his office, I saw a picture…" He trailed off and took a large swig of water then just sat there staring at the bottle in his hand.

Carrie asked quietly, "A picture of what?"

"Me, my Da… and Xander. It was in a frame that said 'My Family' on it in big silver letters. It was on his desk right by his coffee cup. I sat in his chair and stared at it for hours. He told me later that he'd look at that picture every time he picked up the cup and wonder where I was and if I was okay." Spike took another swig of water. "I tried to kill myself right there in his office. Used a box cutter I'd found in a drawer to slice open my wrist." He held up his right arm, showing Carrie the ragged scar. "Did it wrong, like most everything else in my life, and didn't cut quite deep enough. It would've worked if I'd done it earlier and given myself enough time to bleed out, but I'd sat there starin' at the picture too long, and he found me bleedin' all over his desk about ten minutes later. He didn't say anything, just picked up the picture and handed it to me then wrapped up my wrist and carted me to hospital. Didn't even call the law on me for breakin' in even though he had to replace the door I'd ruined."

Spike finished off his water then crushed the bottle and lobbed it into the recycle bin sitting just inside the kitchen door. "Xan told the docs I'd cut myself on a piece of equipment in his garage so they wouldn't slap a psych hold on me, although considerin' how bad I looked and smelled, it was obvious I wasn't someone who'd been hurt at work, but they took his word for it and didn't make a fuss. He sat with me while they stitched me up, me holdin' that picture the whole time, and then he took me home again, but he didn't even have the chance to give me the 'I'll help you kick it' speech 'fore I was beggin' for his forgiveness and his help to get clean. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Spike smoothed his hands down his thighs and stood up. "So there you have it. The sordid story of my life. I know that was a lot to dump on you, especially considerin' your own situation, but I wanted you to know what you were gettin' into. I'm gonna go have a wash up and let you think about if you still want to be here after tomorrow."

Carrie leaned over and barely snagged his hand as he started to step away. "You're still going to see her?"

He gently shook off her hand then turned away, saying quietly over his shoulder, "Don't really want to, but my customers expect certain things and if I don't give 'em those things then they won't be my customers. Losin' their business would hurt Xan and I won't do that, not after all he's done for me, so I do what I can to ensure customer loyalty."

"Xander seems to think that you like seeing all those women."

He turned to face her, but kept his eyes down. "I did at first. What red-blooded male wouldn't get one hell of an ego boost from beautiful women wanting him? Didn't take long to realize that they don't really want **me** , though. They want this…" He waved his hand, indicating his body. "They don't care to know what I think 'bout things or what interests me. It's not my brains or skills as a mechanic that brings 'em to the garage, pet, it's my looks and the skills I possess in other areas. I'm nothin' but a nicely shaped, life-sized sex toy." His shoulders slumped as he turned away again. "I'm as much a rent-boy now as I was when I was using." He moved around the couch and stopped in the bedroom doorway. "Xan doesn't know 'bout the whorin' – any of it, then or now – and I'd appreciate it if he never found out."


	5. Chapter 5 - 7up

Clean Slate

Chapter Five – 7up

Carrie sat on the couch, clutching her unopened bottle of water as she listened to Spike moving around the bedroom. The bathroom door shut with a quiet click and then she heard the shower turn on. She wasn't sure what to think about all the stuff he'd just told her. It wasn't the drugs she was having a problem with. Those were in the past and had been for a while. He was clean and meant to stay that way; she was pretty sure of that… but… she still couldn't quite wrap her brain around what he'd had to do to get the drugs. And now… he was obviously ashamed that he was still a… what did he call it? …a rent-boy, but thought he had to be so Xander's business wouldn't suffer.

She sat for a few long minutes, turning the bottle of water in her hands as she tried to figure out if she wanted to throw in with him. He'd had a rough life – and so had she, if the fact that she'd been eating at a soup kitchen was any indication – but he was trying. He didn't have much, but he'd offered what little he did have to a complete stranger without any reservations. And then he'd told her things about himself that were really none of her business. He could have just let her stay for a few days and then dropped her off at one of the shelters without ever telling her anything, but he'd wanted to be honest with her from the get-go because he didn't want her to get hurt further down the road if she decided to stick around. Did she want to? Could she trust him?

She was alone, homeless, possibly brain damaged, and had no other options at this point, so she really didn't have a choice, did she? She'd have to trust him, trust that he wouldn't take advantage of her… trust that he wasn't some kind of sicko pervert. Everything he'd done so far said that he was a decent person and he didn't give off any kind of vibe that said otherwise, so… Her grip on the water bottle tightened as she decided that she'd go with her gut on this one and take a chance on Spike. That decision sent a wave of relief coursing through her. She suddenly felt safer and more optimistic about her future, knowing that Spike would be a part of it.

And then she got mad… not at Spike, but at all those women who were just using him, making him believe that he was good for nothing but sex. She barely knew anything about him, but she could tell… she **felt** … that he was worth way more than that, and she suddenly didn't want him to go see Cordelia. The very thought of that… that… _Well, heinous skank seems to fit, so that's what I'll go with._ …that **heinous skank** touching him made her blood boil.

Her stomach lurched as the anger washed through her and Carrie laid back down, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. _What is going on with my stomach?_ She reached up and prodded gently at the bandage on her head. _My head hardly even hurts, so why is my stomach still freaking out on me? Maybe I **should** go see a doctor._

That train of thought was derailed when Spike stepped back out into the living room, freshly showered, shaved, and dressed. Carrie's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. He was wearing tight black jeans and an even tighter black t-shirt under his long leather duster. His white-blond hair was gelled into spikes, and the eye liner smudged just so set off his sharp cheekbones. Even the bruise on his jaw didn't detract from his beauty… it added to it, giving him an air of 'dangerous bad-boy.' He was sex on legs – and part of her brain tried to figure out where she'd heard **that** phrase before – because even though she couldn't remember, she was sure she'd never seen anyone in her life who fit that description better than Spike. That train of thought derailed also, crashing into the previous train as Spike stepped up to the couch and sat down on the edge of the cushion.

He glanced at her face then dropped his eyes to the floor, asking shyly, "So… did you make a decision?"

He smelled good, really good, and Carrie breathed deeply through her nose for a few seconds before it dawned on her that he'd spoken. "I'm sorry. What?"

He looked up at her and his brow furrowed. "Are you all right? You look a bit flushed."

Carrie felt her cheeks heat even more, hoping that the naughty thoughts dancing around her brain weren't being broadcast in her eyes. Then her face flushed with shame at those very same thoughts. She'd been angry enough to lose her lunch mere moments ago because of the way Spike's customers treated him and now here she was… looking at him like he was a juicy piece of meat. She'd been sniffing him, for God's sake! And picturing him naked! Okay… she'd been picturing him wearing nothing but the duster, but still… She was no better than those heinous skanks with their cars! Actually, she was worse! He'd taken her into his home, fed her, doctored her, shared what was probably his deepest darkest secret with her, and all she could do was imagine herself licking his abs! All hail Carrie – Queen of the Skanks.

Smooth, pale skin against black leather was still flashing across her brain and Carrie closed her eyes as her stomach lurched again. "I think I'm going to puke."

Spike quickly stood up, grasping her hand and pulling her to her feet as he did. She kicked the blanket away from her feet then stumbled toward the bedroom with her hand clapped over her mouth, barely making it to the toilet before her toast came up. She pushed back and leaned against the side of the tub, one hand lying lightly on her belly. She opened her eyes and looked up at a light tap on her shoulder. Spike was standing next to her holding a damp cloth and a can of 7up.

He held them out to her. "Um… here."

She nodded her thanks as she took the can and swished out her mouth. She spat into the toilet then took the cloth from his outstretched hand and wiped her face. Spike flushed the toilet as she sat back against the tub again, still clutching the can and the cloth. She took several small sips and waited for her stomach to stop roiling as she pressed the cool cloth to her forehead.

Spike squatted down next to her, resting his forearms on his knees. "Is your head still hurting?"

"Not really. The Tylenol and the nap helped. I think maybe I just have a bug or something."

"Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head and motioned toward the door. "No. I'll be okay. You'd better go… do whatever. I don't want you to be late because of me."

He looked over his shoulder, lightly biting at his lip, then turned back to her. "I don't want to leave you here alone if you're not well, Carrie. I could probably call Cordelia and reschedule."

Carrie heaved herself to her feet, bracing a hand on the wall as the room spun around her. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to lie down for a while then maybe try to eat something." She had to practically force the words from her throat. "You go ahead and see Cordelia."

Spike stood up next to her, laying his hand lightly on her back as she started for the bedroom. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She set the 7up on the nightstand then sat down on the bed and scooted up, lying back on the pillow with a sigh as she closed her eyes.

Spike covered her with the sheet and blankets then stood back from the bed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Uh… I know you don't feel well just now, and I feel like a complete tit for asking, but I kind of need to know what you decided… um… **if** you've decided, I mean."

Carrie opened her eyes and looked up at him, giving him a weak smile. "I'll stay, Spike. You haven't scared me away."

He burst into a bright smile for a few seconds then gathered himself and toned it down to a smile that was merely pleasant. "Well, all right then. Uh… hope you feel better soon. Do you want me to pick anything up on my way home? Something for your stomach, or…"

Carrie snuggled down under the warm blankets just a little. "No. What you already bought is good. You go... um… have fun, and don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

He backed up a step then turned toward the door. "Okay. See you later then."

XX

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XX

Spike let himself into his flat in the wee hours of the morning, trying to be quiet so he wouldn't wake Carrie. He was tired and sore and wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the sofa and sleep, but he needed to take a shower first. He hung up his keys then rubbed at his aching lower back as he walked quietly through the kitchen. He'd ensured Cordelia's loyalty… three times… and then he'd brought in a new customer, her friend, a ditzy blonde named Harmony. She'd be bringing her car by tomorrow to be serviced – and would probably want another two or three rounds of his 'other' service tomorrow night. He sighed tiredly then winced slightly as he slipped out of his duster and draped it over the back of the sofa.

He tip-toed through his bedroom, smiling warmly at Carrie's soft snoring, then he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. He flipped on the light then lifted the hem of his t-shirt and carefully pulled it over his head before turning to look at his back in the mirror on the back of the door. Harmony had marked him up pretty bad. The several deep furrows down his back hurt and one was still bleeding a little, but when she'd dug her claws into his arse cheeks as she'd climaxed… he unbuckled his belt and slipped his jeans down to his knees then stood back up. He looked over his shoulder and sighed again. There was some blood smeared over his backside from the barely scabbed over divots in his skin. Sitting would be fun for the next couple of days, and because he didn't wear underwear, he'd have to make sure to wear his black jeans so the blood wouldn't show if his movements rubbed off the scabs. He heaved another tired sigh as he stepped out of his bloodied jeans and turned on the shower.

The water hurt as it hit his back and bum and he bit down on a bark of pain, hoping that the sound of the shower wouldn't wake Carrie. He cleaned up as quickly as he could then stepped out of the tub and snagged a towel off the rack. It was only when he'd hung it back up after drying himself off that he realized what he'd forgotten. "Oh... bugger."

He hadn't grabbed any clean clothes. He usually didn't, being that he lived by himself and nobody would care if he paraded around his flat totally starkers, but now that he had a roommate, he'd have to plan accordingly in the future. He snagged the towel off the rack again and wrapped it loosely around his waist then eased the bathroom door open. She was still asleep, still snoring softly, and Spike stepped out into the bedroom, leaving the bathroom door partly open. A band of light about eight or ten inches wide fell across the bed and his dresser on the other side of it. The light would be enough to let him find his clothes without disturbing the woman sleeping in his bed. He padded around the end of the bed and slowly slid open his t-shirt drawer because it was a bit warped and usually squeaked. It didn't this time and he pulled out the topmost shirt then pushed the drawer closed. It gave a short, sharp squeak and he glanced over his shoulder at the bed. Carrie hadn't moved. Good. He turned back to the dresser and opened the drawer he kept his sweats in, pulling out the ragged blue pair he wore for sleep.

A small squeak pulled Carrie from the rather lovely dream she'd been having. There had been squeaking of another nature in the dream – caused by the motion of the bed she and Spike were putting through its paces – but the squeak that had woken her had sounded different. Sharper. She kept her eyes closed, trying to slip back into the dream, but couldn't. There were quiet noises coming from the right side of the bed and she opened her eyes, blinking in the dim room. A band of light stretched across the bed around the level of her hips and she followed it to where the noise had come from, looking over just in time to see Spike stand up. The light hit his back, showing her several puffy red scratches traversing it from his shoulder blades to his hips and she sat up, blurting out, "Oh God, Spike! What happened to your back?"

Spike yelped and spun around, dropping the bundle of clothing he'd had clutched to his chest. The motion loosened his already loosely wrapped towel and it joined his sweats and t-shirt to land in a heap of cloth at his feet. Carrie's eyes widened to the size of saucers for a few seconds, then she clapped her hands over them with a squeaked, "I'm sorry!"

Spike cursed, "Bloody hell!" and bent quickly, grabbing at the pile of cloth on the floor. He snatched the first thing his fingers touched then held it in an untidy clump over his manhood and darted for the bathroom.

Carrie hadn't meant to do it, but apparently her fingers had a mind of their own because they parted just enough to let her watch Spike's naked butt disappear into the bathroom. The door shut with a sharp slam and Carrie collapsed back onto the pillow. Her hands flopped to the bed beside her and she lay there staring at the ceiling. The room was dark again, but Carrie wouldn't have noticed if a brass band had been marching across the ceiling playing neon-lit instruments. _Wow. Just... wow. Now I know why Drusilla nicknamed him Spike. Holy crap._

With the whole memory loss thing, she couldn't remember if she'd ever seen another man's... uh... junk, so she didn't have anything to compare it to size-wise, but she was sure that Spike's was above average. Way above average. And you wouldn't think he'd be so well-endowed, considering that he really wasn't that big a guy, but damn. And his butt was just... well... 'bite-able' was the first word that came to mind.

Carrie groaned and rolled to her side, putting her back to the bathroom door. Where were all these naughty thoughts coming from? God, was she some kind of complete horn-dog? Maybe she **was** a prostitute or something. She'd been thinking about pretty much nothing but Spike's body and what she'd like to do to it since she'd gotten here. That couldn't be normal, could it? Maybe she was some kind of deviant sex addict who'd spent all her money on male prostitutes and that's why she was homeless and eating at the soup kitchen.

She sat up and threw the covers back, sliding to the edge of the bed. Her foot landed on something that wasn't carpet and she looked down then rolled her eyes at herself. She leaned over and turned on the lamp on the nightstand then looked down again. A pair of blue sweatpants lay on the floor. She heard a few quiet thumps and looked over her shoulder at the bathroom door.

Spike stood on the other side of the door, naked from the waist down as he bumped his forehead against the wood several times. He stopped bumping, instead resting his head against the door, and called out, "Carrie? Uh... could you bring me my sweats, please? I think they're on the floor next to the bed."

Carrie scooped up the sweats and walked over to the bathroom door, knocking lightly. The door opened just wide enough for Spike to slip his hand through. He took the sweats and muttered, "Thanks," then closed the door.

Carrie stood there staring at the wood grain for a few seconds then said, "I'm going to... uh... go out into the living room. See you out there?"

"Okay," came from the other side of the door and Carrie turned and exited the bedroom. She walked into the kitchen and picked up the first aid kit sitting on the counter then walked into the living room and sat on the couch.


	6. Chapter 6 - Crackers

Sorry this is so late. I meant to post this like a week ago, but life kept happening and didn't leave me even two spare minutes to rub together. I do want to say that I appreciate every review, and even though I don't have time to respond to each one, I do look forward to getting the notification emails. They brighten my day, so thanks to everyone who has commented.

Clean Slate

Chapter Six – Crackers

Spike listened to her leave the bedroom then put the sweats on and turned to the sink. He grasped the sides and bent his head, his eyes closed tight. It wasn't like his naked bits and pieces hadn't been seen before. Dozens of people had seen them, especially in the years he'd been working at the garage, and he'd never been embarrassed. Hell, two different women had seen them just tonight, and he hadn't even given it a second thought. He didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, he knew that, so why did this time feel like he'd been paraded bare-arsed down main street while people pointed and stared?

He raised his head and looked at his wan and tired features in the mirror over the sink. The bruise on his jaw stood out starkly from his pale skin and he reached up to prod it with his fingertips. It hurt, but should be gone in a couple of days. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and tried to smooth down his curls to no avail. They only behaved once he'd gelled them to within an inch of their life, but he didn't like to sleep with that crap in his hair. It made his scalp itch after a while.

He shrugged at the wild mess on his head and picked up his toothbrush. He carefully scrubbed his teeth – taking about twice as long as he usually did – then he rinsed with water and mouthwash. Once his mouth was minty fresh, he dug out two cotton swabs and fastidiously cleaned his ears then tossed the swabs into the trash. He checked his nostrils for stray hairs and trimmed the two he found then set the trimmer back on the shelf. He rubbed a hand over his cheeks and chin, but found no stubble. He usually only had to shave about twice a week and since he'd done that less than eight hours ago...

He sighed. "Nothin' for it, you sod. You're gonna have to go out there eventually. Might as well get it over with." He cautiously opened the bathroom door and peeked out into the bedroom. Empty. He shut off the bathroom light then plodded through the room like a man going to the gallows.

Carrie looked up as Spike stepped into the living room. His head was bowed, but she could see color staining his cheeks as he stepped toward the couch. He sat down as far away as he could get from her and still be on the same piece of furniture then spoke quietly, "I'm sorry you had to see that, Carrie. I never meant for that to happen and I assure you that it will not happen again. I'm not used to havin' someone here, but I'll take care to have all the necessary supplies with me when I go into the loo from now on. I promise. I know I promised you no unwanted advances and I've broken that promise twice already, but I will try harder in the future. Again, I apologize."

Carrie just blinked at him. Did he really think that she thought he'd flashed her on purpose? That she thought he was some kind of perv who got his jollies by waving his junk around? What was she supposed to say to that? She blinked again, noticing that Spike seemed to be sinking further into the cushion the longer it took her to respond, so whatever she was going to say she'd better say it quick before he disappeared into the fabric altogether. "Uh... thanks for the apology, but you really didn't have to. It was an accident, Spike, and I don't think you broke any promises or anything, so how about we just forget it, okay?"

He glanced over at her and gave a short nod then looked back down at his knees. Carrie lifted the first aid kit. "Do you want me to do something for your back? I think you might be bleeding."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't have to... uh... see what... uh..."

Carrie set the box down and angrily opened the lid. "What the heinous skank did to you? Well, I've already seen it, so just let me fix it, okay?"

Spike looked up at her sharply, startled by the heat in her tone. She sounded like she was... jealous. But how was that possible? After all he'd told her, after what he'd done tonight... whoring himself out to Cordelia – whom Carrie knew about – and Harmony – whom she didn't – how could she even want anything to do with him?

Carrie was just looking at him, holding a tube of antiseptic gel in one hand and a roll of gauze in the other. "Well? Take your shirt off and let me fix those scratches Cordelia left on you before they get infected."

His mouth opened and words fell out of it without checking in with his brain first. "Cordy didn't do that, Harmony did. She's a friend of Cordy's... and a new customer. She's bringin' her car by tomorrow." Yeah, he was a champion at putting his foot in his mouth. Always had been and probably always would be. He'd just freely admitted that he'd shagged two women in less than eight hours, and judging by the look on Carrie's face, that might have been the thing to send her screaming into the night.

Carrie sighed, but to her ears, it sounded kind of like a growl. At least that's how it felt. _Now the heinous skank is pimping Spike out to her friends? Who the hell does she think she is? He's mine, goddammit! And if she ever lays another finger on him, I'll rip those fake-as-hell boobs right off her chest!_ Carrie's eyes widened and she dropped the medical supplies back in the box then stood up. "Um... I need a minute. Be right back."

She walked quickly to the French doors and stepped out onto the patio, taking great gulping lungfuls of the cool night air. "What the hell is wrong with me? I just went all psycho over a guy I just met who's been doing what he's doing for years! Who the hell is she? Who the hell am I to tell him how to live his life?" She paced back and forth across the patio. "I need to get a serious grip here. He's hot, yeah, but he's also sweet, and nice, and smart, and pretty much everything a girl could want in a guy, but he's not MY guy. So I have no say in what he does or who he does it with. I just need to... to..." She turned to face the French doors. "I need to MAKE him my guy. That's what I need to do."

Then she smacked herself in the forehead. "I am an idiot. I wonder if I was this stupid before I lost my memory. And how can I remember how to talk and how to be jealous and what it feels like to have sex, but I can't remember my own freaking name? Can you have selective memory loss? Is that even a thing? Well, it must be, because I'm living proof. I can't remember where I live or who my parents are or if I have a boyfriend, but I can remember phrases like 'heinous skank' and what fake boobs look like." She sank down into one of the deck chairs and dropped her head into her hands. "My life must have been completely horrible if one little knock on the head can make me forget everything about myself... and the stuff I do remember isn't all that great."

She lifted her head and looked toward the house, noticing that Spike was hiding behind the curtain listening to her ranting. She could see his bare toes peeking out from under the edge. She smiled to herself and spoke just a tiny bit louder. "But at least I've got Spike... a guy that any girl would be lucky to have, who's doing the best he can, who took in a complete stranger... a completely destitute homeless stranger... and he's worried about what I think of him. Well... I like him. And I want him, but he's right. Until I find out who I am, we should stick to being friends, so I'll just have to stop getting jealous – or at least try not to show him that I'm jealous – when he goes on his... dates." She stood up and squared her shoulders, "So here's me... not being jealous." She stood staring out at the back yard long enough for Spike to scoot away from the door and sit back down on the couch, then she muttered under her breath as she walked back into the house. "Yeah... that's gonna be hard. Really hard."

She stepped into the living room and smirked at Spike's expression of innocence as he sat on the couch with his hands folded in his lap. "Okay. I'm good now." She sat back down on the couch and picked up the tube of antiseptic gel and the roll of gauze. "Let's get those scratches fixed up so we can both get some sleep. I'm wiped."

XX

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XX

They stepped out of the run-down brick building into the bright afternoon sunshine. "Well, that was the last shelter on the list, pet. Sorry." Carrie nodded dejectedly, and while Spike felt bad that she still didn't know who she was, he couldn't help the bloom of happiness that rose in his chest because she'd be staying with him. "Um… do you feel up to a bit of shopping? Could get you some clothes and whatnot."

She nodded again as he opened the passenger door of his car. "I guess, but you don't have to buy me a lot, okay? Just enough to get me through until I get paid." She sat down and Spike waited while she pulled her feet in then he shut the door.

He walked around to the driver's side and slid into his seat. "No worries, luv. I live fairly cheap, so buyin' you some togs won't break the bank."

She nodded again then laid her head against the window as he pulled out into traffic. "Who am I, Spike? Why can't I remember?"

He shrugged. "Don't know, pet." He was quiet for a few minutes then said, "Could take you to hospital, if you want, get you checked out."

She shook her head, rolling it against the glass. "No. I don't think they can help me. They'd probably just lock me up somewhere and stuff drugs down my throat. That's what they do with crazy people, isn't it?"

"You're not crazy, Carrie. Just had a knock on the head that loosed some wires. If you see something or someone you recognize, your memory could come back."

"Or it couldn't."

"True. Just have to wait it out, I guess. You're welcome to stay as long as you need, you know, even if your memory never returns."

She reached over and clasped his hand. "Thank you."

He smiled at her. "No problem, luv. Where'd you want to go for clothes? Can you remember a favorite store or anything?"

She shook her head. "No. Is there like a thrift store or second-hand store or something? I don't want you to spend too much on me."

He nodded. "Yeah, there's one on the edge of town, not too far from the garage, actually, but I can afford new, Carrie."

"I don't need new, I just need functional." She was quiet for a few minutes then said, "Maybe I should have worn my sweats instead of these…" She motioned to the clothes Anya had let her borrow. "Maybe somebody would have recognized me then."

"Don't think that would have made a difference. Besides, your jumper is still soaking in the kitchen sink." He watched her settle her hand on her belly. "Your stomach still bothering you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but it's not as bad. I don't feel sick otherwise, so maybe it's just nerves or something."

"Yeah, maybe, but have a few of these anyway." He handed her a small box of saltine crackers. They drove in a silence that was broken only by the crunching of crackers until Spike pulled the car into the parking lot of what looked like an old warehouse. "Here we are, pet, Second-Hand Treasures."

He motioned for her to wait while he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, but at this point it was unnecessary. He'd been opening the door for her all afternoon and she was used to the routine. She smiled to herself at how cute it was that he was such a gentleman, then she frowned when she remembered that 'Gentleman Spike' had another 'date' this evening. This time with Harmony.

She'd seen the blonde practically drooling down the front of her ample bosom the whole time Spike had been working on her car. Carrie had been filing work orders and had crumpled a stack of them in her fists when Harmony had sidled up to him as he wiped his hands on a shop rag. She'd leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his arm, and had whispered something into his ear.

Spike had smiled and nodded, and even though she barely knew him, she could tell that the smile was forced. He'd pulled her car around to the office then had come in with her to sign the ticket, and Carrie had nearly lost the toast and juice she'd had for breakfast when Harmony had leaned up to kiss his cheek before saying, "See you tonight, Blondie Bear." Spike had shot Carrie a shame-filled glance as Harmony had flounced out to her car, then he'd gone back to his bay to clean up.

Her door opened and she wiped the frown off her face then looked up at Spike. "Not too much, okay? Just a few outfits, some jeans, a couple of shirts, and some underwear and stuff. Maybe some shoes, but that's it."

He nodded. "Okay. Just get whatever you need, but I'm not sure you'll want to buy used knickers. I'm not even sure they'll have any for sale."

"You might have a point. Um… maybe we can stop somewhere else for underwear." She got out of the car and followed him up to the door. He opened that one as well and they stepped into a large open space filled with racks and racks of used clothes.

Nearly an hour later, they exited the store with two bulging bags. Carrie was still marveling at all the clothes she'd gotten. Spike had spent the time pointing things out and saying, "It's only a few quid, go ahead and get it if you like it." She wasn't sure how 'quid' transferred into dollars, but the total had been something she could live with and easily pay back once she got her first paycheck. Plus, she wouldn't have to buy any more clothes. They'd even had a display of new packs of underwear, so she was completely set as far as her wardrobe was concerned.

Once they were settled into the car again, Spike looked over at her. "You hungry? There's a nice little Italian place a few blocks down."

She shook her head. "No. You've spent enough on me today, so I'll just eat at home. Plus, you've got to get ready, don't you? What time is your date?"

He looked away guiltily and started the car. "Seven."

They drove home in silence.

XX

XXXX

XX

Spike let himself in just after midnight. Carrie was waiting in the living room with the first aid kit. She looked up, a roll of gauze already in her hand. "How'd it go?"

He winced as he slid out of his duster. "She shredded my back again." He laid his duster over the back of the sofa. "I'm gonna have a shower, but you don't need to wait up. I'll take care of it."

Carrie shook her head, fighting down a surge of jealousy. "You can't reach the scratches, Spike. I'll do it."

He nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. The shower hurt just as much as it had the previous evening and Spike leaned his forehead on the wall as the water beat down on his back. He stood there until the water ran cold then he turned it off and stepped out, using the towel to wipe the tears of shame from his face before he dried the rest of his body.


	7. Chapter 7 - Horseradish

Clean Slate

Chapter Seven – Horseradish

*Three Months Later*

The three months since Carrie had stumbled out in front of Spike's car seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Carrie worked in the office, silently seething whenever one of Spike's 'special' customers showed up to have their car worked on, but she kept her jealousy under control and maintained a polite façade, although quite a few of the work orders she filed were a bit wrinkled from being crumpled in her fists. During Spike's 'dates,' she curled up on the couch in the living room, staring at the blank television until he came home. They wouldn't really talk while she doctored any injuries he'd received, and then they'd go to sleep, separately, of course.

Her stomach troubles had cleared up a week or two after meeting Spike, and once she'd been able to keep down a couple of meals in a row, Spike had remarked that she was too thin and then he'd set off on a course to put some meat on her bones. He'd brought home meat, vegetables, fruit, milk… pretty much any 'healthy' food he could find at the store. No processed foods, snacks, or anything with empty calories, although he'd indulged her seemingly uncontrollable craving for chocolate ice cream. He'd even purchased a massive bottle of multi-vitamins and had doled them out to her once a day like clockwork, telling her that because they didn't know how long she'd been getting less than optimal nutrition, the vitamins were needed to build her immunity back up. He was an excellent cook – something he'd learned from his father – and so she'd eaten… a lot… but she'd only managed to put on about ten or twelve pounds… most of it seeming to settle in her lower abdomen.

Spike had 'date' nights two or three times a week, and Carrie looked forward to the nights when he'd be home. They'd cook dinner together – she'd found out that she was a menace in the kitchen, so she mostly handled making the drinks, setting out the dishes, and simple tasks like buttering the bread – and then they'd sit and eat, talking about anything and everything… except Spike's extracurricular activities. Once the dishes were washed and drying in the dish rack, they'd go for a ride on the motorcycle then come home and play cards or watch something on TV until they couldn't keep their eyes open.

It was a simple life, one they both enjoyed. They'd developed a warm and comfortable friendship, but they carefully maintained a 'hands off' policy except for when Carrie had to play medic. There'd been a few instances of accidental touching, mostly when they were both maneuvering around Spike's small kitchen, and they'd both blushed and had mumbled apologies, neither one noticing the longing in the other's eyes as they'd continued their dinner preparations. They were as close as two people in their particular situation could be, but the whole 'Spike's a whore' thing and the super-sized box of condoms on his dresser were like the elephants in the room… always there… always seen… but never discussed.

Carrie's memory still hadn't returned, although she got flashes once in a while. She'd see something on TV or they'd ride by a building that seemed sort of familiar and it would rattle a memory loose, but they never contained enough information to let her identify anything useful. All she'd gleaned from the flashes was that she'd apparently grown up in a household that was moderately well-off. She'd remembered a few nice cars, a bathroom that was larger than Spike's living room, and the busy hallways of a large high school, but there hadn't been enough detail to give her anywhere to start some research. They'd visited the Sunnydale High library after that particular memory flash and had looked through yearbooks for the past six years, only to discover that Carrie wasn't originally from Sunnydale… or if she was, then she'd been homeschooled.

She also hadn't remembered anything at all having to do with a boyfriend, which made her ridiculously happy, even though that happiness was tinged with a touch of bitterness. No, she apparently wasn't attached, which was good, but the one person she wanted to be attached to was stuck maintaining their 'just friends' status, which was bad. She was so in love with Spike that it was physically painful to think about him with those other women, and she'd had vivid fantasies of what she'd like to do to each and every one of them for daring to touch her man.

And damn, but she was horny. Pretty much all the time since her stomach problems had stopped. She'd spent a lot of frustrated nights lying in Spike's bed all by herself, wishing he was lying next to her, or on top of her, or beneath her – she wasn't picky – instead of sleeping on the couch. He'd gotten good at making sure he took his clothes with him into the bathroom when he showered, so she hadn't gotten a look at anything but his torso, and what a torso he had. She'd had to seriously concentrate on NOT rubbing her hands all over his shoulders, arms, back, and chest while she was doctoring his 'date injuries,' and most of Spike's 'date nights' had ended with Carrie waiting until he was asleep to slip into the shower and have a little 'private time' with the detachable shower head.

Spike was having much the same problem, and while he also had an outlet for his lust, he'd found that he couldn't maintain an erection or achieve climax unless he imagined Carrie's face instead of the face of the woman he was buried balls-deep in. There had also been a couple of close calls – he'd very nearly called out Carrie's name instead of the name of the woman he'd been shagging because he'd been so deep into his fantasy. But he didn't **just** want to shag Carrie… he loved her. He was **in love** with her. Completely head over heels. Everything she did, everything she said… just everything about her, he found to be completely adorable. He loved spending time with her, no matter what they were doing, and though they weren't together, he felt connected to her. More than connected… he was hers, heart and soul, if not in body, and the guilt from his continuous cheating was nearly crushing him. But what other choice did he have? He'd set that train in motion years ago and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it, but he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. He'd give anything to be hers. Only hers.

XX

XXXX

XX

Carrie put the last washed bowl from their breakfast into the cupboard then turned and lifted the lid off the crock pot. The aroma of cooking meat wafted up and she inhaled deeply. She looked up when she heard the rumble of a motorcycle's engine then smiled and replaced the lid. She walked to the French doors and pulled them open in time to see Spike setting the kickstand on the bike. He looked over at her and smiled as he dismounted. "Hey, pet."

She leaned a shoulder against the door frame as he opened the saddlebags and lifted out the rest of the dinner ingredients. "Hey. How was shopping?"

He held up two shopping bags. "Good. Found some fresh horseradish. You're in for a treat."

She wrinkled up her nose. "Horseradish? What's that?"

"It's bloody delicious, is what, and if I'm going to prepare a proper Sunday roast, I have to serve horseradish. The Queen would most likely lop off my head if I didn't."

Carrie giggled. "You're in America now, Spike. I'm pretty sure the Queen doesn't really care what you eat."

He winked as he stepped through the door. "Maybe, but I can't call myself a proper Englishman if I don't serve a proper roast for our special dinner."

Carrie laughed as she followed him into the kitchen. "You're a proper goofball." Her stomach fluttered a little, though, because today **was** going to be special… she hoped. She'd been planning things out for a week, trying to decide the best way to tell him that he didn't have to whore himself out anymore. Her stomach fluttered again. And then she was going to make her move, finally claiming the man she loved as her own.

He set the bags on the counter and started emptying them, putting things away in cupboards and the fridge. He held up a clear plastic bag that contained what looked like a piece of tree root. "This is horseradish."

Carrie looked at it skeptically. "That doesn't look very delicious, Spike. It looks like an old stick."

He set the bag on the counter. "It's not delicious yet, but it will be when I'm finished preparing it. You just wait."

"If you say…" Carrie broke off with a gasp and looked down, laying a hand on her lower belly.

Spike looked at her. "You all right, luv?"

"I think so." She pressed her hand lightly against her belly then gasped again, her eyes widening as she looked up at Spike.

He stepped closer and looked down at her hand. "Is it your stomach again? I thought you were doing better. You haven't said anything for a while." He looked back up at her face. "And you look miles healthier than you did when you got here. You, well… you sort of… glow."

Carrie swallowed hard as a few puzzle pieces suddenly slipped into place, then she said in a whisper, "I need to sit down… and maybe you should, too."

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch, Spike's brow furrowed with concern. "Tell me what's wrong. Please."

Carrie looked down at the hands folded in her lap as her mind went over the puzzle pieces once more, trying to decide if they really did fit or if she was trying to force them into place. She decided that she wasn't forcing anything then nodded to herself and said quietly, "I don't think anything is really **wrong** , exactly, but…" She looked up at him. "Okay, um… I kind of haven't had my period since I met you… well… I've bled off and on, but it was way light and not on any kind of schedule or anything. Since I didn't know anything about myself, I just figured that was normal for me, and when I talked to Anya about it, she said my cycle might be messed up because of the stress and how skinny I am." She shrugged. "I figured I'd even out once I gained some more weight, so I stopped worrying about it, but now…" She fell silent and laid a hand on her belly again as she closed her eyes.

Spike's eyes tracked to her hand then back to her face. "Now… what? Are you bleeding?" He turned and looked over the back of the couch toward the bedroom. "Do you have the… uh… woman things you need for that?" He looked over at her. "I could go get some if you don't."

She shook her head. "No, I don't need tampons or anything." She took a deep breath. "When I was in the kitchen just now, I felt something move…" She patted her belly. "…in here. I thought it was nerves, my stomach was kind of fluttery a few minutes ago, but in the kitchen… it was stronger. Way stronger." She opened her eyes and looked at Spike. "I think I'm pregnant." A small smile formed on her lips. "I just felt it again." She lifted her shirt and looked at her slightly rounded stomach then smoothed her hand over it. "That would explain why all the weight I've gained has gone right here. And it would explain the no periods thing. And it completely explains why I was sick to my stomach so much." She motioned toward her breasts even as she kept staring at her stomach. "And why these have gotten bigger and why they're so sensitive." She looked up at Spike again, her smile a little wider. "I'm pregnant, Spike."

Spike's face had drained of all its color and he whispered, "You're… Oh, Dear Lord." He jumped up and walked across the room, standing with his back to her. He glanced over his shoulder, his face stricken. "You're… bloody hell…" One hand clenched into a fist as he turned to face the French doors and muttered, "Well, of course you are. Why wouldn't you be? Amazing bird like you, 'course you've got a bloke. And 'course he got you up the duff." His shoulders slumped and he whispered, too low to be heard, "Knew I'd never get you. I was stupid to think I could. I don't deserve you." He suddenly spun around, digging in his pocket for his keys. "Xan mentioned this private detective a few weeks ago. It'll cost, but I'll pay for it if you want so we can find out who you are and get you back to your bloke. Be a proper family."

He turned to open the door and was about to step through when Carrie said softly, "Spike, wait."

He stopped, but didn't look at her. "We should get that PI on this, find out who you are. I'm sure your bloke's worried."

Carrie barked out a bitter laugh. "Worried? Yeah, right. It's been months, Spike! Months! If my **bloke** was that damned worried about me and our baby, don't you think we'd have seen me in the missing person reports Xander gets from his cop friend every week? Huh? If whoever knocked me up gave any kind of a shit about me, then why was I eating at the soup kitchen? By myself? And this is Sunnydale, not New York City. Three months is more than enough time for my 'worried bloke' to search every single building in town… twice… so if I have one, then he's apparently not worried about me at all or he'd have found me by now!" Carrie got to her feet and walked purposefully across the room to the pile of mail in the tray on the kitchen counter. She shifted the envelopes around until she found a business card then held it up. "And I already have the PI's number. Xander gave it to me a month ago." She tossed the card back into the tray.

"Did you call him?"

"No, and I don't want to."

"Why not?"

She huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Because who I used to be doesn't matter anymore. I like being Carrie." She dipped her head and motioned vaguely around the apartment then at Spike. "And I've been happy here… with you." Her shoulders slumped and she turned away. "But I get it. This isn't your problem, it's mine, and I'll go so you don't have to deal with it. Wouldn't want to cramp your style or anything." She started toward the bedroom with a barely hidden sniffle. "Just let me pack my stuff and I'll call a cab to take me to one of the shelters." Her voice caught a little, and when she spoke Spike could hear the tears in it. "I'll start hunting for a room or something tomorrow. I think I have enough saved to..."

She didn't get to finish her sentence because Spike had moved to stand in front of her and his finger had landed on her lips. He slipped it under her chin and gently lifted until her damp eyes met his. "You have enough saved to buy some of the things you'll need for the baby." He nodded toward the bedroom. "There's room enough in there for a cradle, I think. I'll get one tomorrow and then I'll shift some things around. I can move the dresser out here or something." He lowered his finger from her chin and reached down to grasp her hand. "I don't want you to go, Carrie. I'm happy here, too… with you, and I'll be happy with your sprog. The flat may be a bit cramped, but my style will cope." Carrie snorted out a sniffle-giggle and leaned forward, laying her forehead against Spike's chest. His arms came up to wrap around her and he pulled her close. "Please stay."

She mumbled against his chest. "But babies are noisy and messy and expensive. And it's not even yours. Are you sure you want to help raise another man's child?"

He squeezed her, just a little. "The little one is part of you, and that makes it fine by me. I'll help you with it; I'll even change nappies, just please don't leave. I don't know what I'd do if you left."

She lifted her head, their faces only inches apart, and gave him a watery smile. "You're sure?"

He nodded, his eyes focused on her lips, then he tilted his head as he closed the distance and lightly pressed his lips to hers. She tilted her head the opposite way and her arms came up to wrap around his back. She clung to him, holding him tight against her as she lightly touched his lip with her tongue. He moaned at the contact and opened his mouth, letting her in.

They broke the kiss nearly a minute later, both breathing hard as they rested their foreheads together. Spike panted, "Was that all right? I mean… was it okay that I kissed you? I know we're just friends… and we've been careful not to…"

Carrie lifted her hand and pressed a finger to his lips. "It was all kinds of okay. And I think we're more than just friends. Way more. At least I want us to be."

She started wriggling until he let her go then she laid her hands on his chest and gently pushed until he started walking backwards. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was pushing him toward the bedroom. He looked down at her hands then up to her face. "You want to…"

She nodded then licked her lips. "Oh yeah. I want to. I've wanted to since I met you." His knees hit the edge of the bed and she gave a harder push, sending him backwards onto the mattress with a bounce. "Do you want to?"

A surge of lust bloomed all through him at the way she was taking control and he nodded then breathed, "God, yes."

She smiled then stripped her shirt off. She wiped a few tears from her face then tossed it at the hamper. She wasn't wearing a bra. "Okay, but before we do this…" She crawled up onto the bed and straddled his hips, pressing down against the hardness in his jeans. "I have to tell you something."

Spike's mouth had gone dry at the sight of her naked breasts and the pressure on his cock, and he had to swallow a few times before he could croak out, "Tell me what?"

She grasped his wrists and raised his arms above his head as she leaned down, pressing his wrists hard against the mattress and her breasts against his chest. He tilted his head back, suddenly discovering that being restrained by a forceful woman was apparently one of his kinks, and she attacked his neck with teeth and lips. She nibbled and sucked then licked a line up to his ear and bit down gently on his earlobe before she whispered, "I don't share." At his gasp, she raised her head and waited until he'd opened his eyes to look at her. His blue eyes were dazed and heavy lidded with raw lust. She smiled then claimed his lips in a possessive kiss. She sat up and released his wrists, laying her hands on his chest. He left his hands where they were then moaned again when she scratched at his nipples through his shirt. "Did you hear me?"

Spike groaned when she pinched his right nipple then tried to find a clear thought in the fog of need currently clouding his brain. "So, you mean... no more 'dates' for me?"

She shook her head. "No. If we do this, then you're MY man… and ONLY mine. Nobody else gets to touch you, and I'll scratch the eyes out of any skank who tries."

A sharp jab of fear pierced the fog and Spike's eyes cleared a little. "God, Carrie, you have no idea how much I want that, how LONG I've wanted that… but what about the garage? If I stop performing my… uh… special services, Xander will lose customers."

Carrie leaned down again, her lips brushing his as she said, "I help do the books, remember? Xander's doing fine. More than fine. And he'll keep doing fine even if the skank patrol stops showing up. The work they have done is a small percentage of the garage's total revenue, and it got even smaller when Xander landed that contract with the city last week." She lifted her head and looked at him seriously. "He knows what you've been doing with those women, Spike. And he knows why you've been doing it." She sat up with a sigh. "I was going to tell you all this over dinner. I've been planning out how to do it for a week, and straddling you while I'm half-naked wasn't part of the plan. Well… it was part of A plan, but not THAT plan."

And that was it for the lust. Spike's eyes cleared all the way and he shivered as a cold wave of shame washed over him. He closed his eyes and turned his head. "How long has he known?"

"He figured it out a month or so ago. He asked me why you were still seeing your customers if you felt the way you do about me. I told him we were just friends and he gave me this look like I'd completely missed the point."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "He told you how I feel? I told him that in confidence! It wasn't his place to go running his mouth!"

Carrie tapped a fingertip on Spike's chest. "He just confirmed what I'd already figured out. I didn't tell him 'why' you were seeing your customers, though, Anya did. She's known for a while because one of your customers told her that doing you is what keeps her coming to the garage. Before I showed up, Anya didn't think it was a big deal; you're young and you're single, so why shouldn't you have fun? But then she noticed how guilty you looked every time one of the skanks made a date with you while I was in the room. She said the shame just practically drips off you every time one of them shows up, so that's why she prodded Xander into going after the city contract. They both knew you wouldn't stop if you thought it would hurt their business, so they fixed it so it won't."

Spike turned his head and opened his eyes, carefully keeping his gaze on Carrie's face instead of points further south. "So… I can call Harmony and cancel our date for tonight? Just like that?"

Carrie nodded. "Yeah. Just like that."

"What about tomorrow? She was supposed to bring her car in for a full service. If I cancel…"

Carrie shrugged. "Then she probably won't show up. Big whoop. Tomorrow's booked solid, so one missed appointment won't matter." Carrie's eyes flashed hotly. "If you want, I'll call Miss Fake-Boobs Sluttypants and tell her to go find some other guy to sharpen her claws on. I can get her number from the files in the office."

Spike smirked faintly then shook his head. "I'll call, but… what about my job? Do I get to keep that?"

Carrie frowned in confusion. "Well… yeah, why wouldn't you?"

Spike lifted a hand and motioned toward his body. "Because this is what's marketable, pet, not my skills as a mechanic."

Carrie sighed. "Have you had sex with every single one of your customers? Old Mrs. McCreevy seems to like you. Ever been on a 'date' with her?"

Spike looked mortified. "What? No! She's nearly ninety!"

Carrie smiled. "Okay, did the customers you **didn't** have sex with bring their car to you more than once?"

Spike nodded slowly. "Well… yeah, a few did…"

"Actually, way more than a few. So you get where I'm going with this? Your work must have been good, you doof, otherwise you wouldn't have had repeat customers."

Spike considered that for a few seconds then nodded. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Carrie scratched her nails across Spike's nipples and he gasped. She grasped one of his hands and lifted it to her breast. "So… do you still want to do this? You want to be mine and only mine?"

Spike's eyes tracked to his hand and he sat up, nodding vigorously. "Yes. To both." He dipped his head, his mouth closing on her breast and Carrie groaned as he sucked her extremely sensitive nipple into his mouth.

Her fingers wound into his hair as she pushed her breast further into his mouth. He cupped her other breast with his hand then trailed his mouth across to that one, giving it the same attention. He lifted his head then wrapped his arm around her and rolled, laying her back on the bed as he supported himself above her. He laid a hand gently on her swollen belly. "You sure about this? Don't want to hurt the baby."

Carrie reached up to trail her fingers lightly down his cheek. "You won't." She slid them into his hair again then tugged his head down, capturing his lips in a blistering kiss. She wound her legs around his hips and rolled, putting herself back on top.

Spike looked at her, his gaze one of concern. "How do you know?"

She shrugged. "Just do. Like I know the alphabet and how to operate a microwave. Sex during pregnancy isn't dangerous to the baby as long as my water hasn't broken, so until it does…" She sat up, straddling his upper thighs, then reached down to tug the t-shirt out of his jeans. "…we're gonna have lots of sex."

Spike groaned as her fingers slipped under the shirt and found his nipples. "You like to be in charge, don't you?"

Carrie shrugged again. "Looks like." She pushed his t-shirt up then captured his wrists in her hands and leaned down, taking a nipple between her teeth before sucking it sharply into her mouth. She nibbled then released it and moved across his chest to the other one, mumbling on the way, "That gonna be a problem?"

Spike's head tipped back again as she held his wrists hard to the bed. "No problem at all. Please continue."

Carrie sat up then scooted off Spike and stood. "Okay. Strip."


	8. Chapter 8 - Bananas

Clean Slate

Chapter Eight – Bananas

Spike looked up at her, his eyes wide, then he rolled off the side of the bed and stood, stripping out of his t-shirt on the way. He kicked his boots off and then his jeans hit the floor with a rattle of change, keys, and belt buckle. He kicked them to the side and stood naked. Well… naked except for his socks.

Carrie looked him up and down, licking her lips several times before she breathed, "Very nice." She motioned to his feet. "Socks." He looked down then quickly lifted each foot and slipped the socks off. When he looked back over at her, she pointed to her pants. "Now me."

Spike skirted the bed slowly, reaching out to trail the backs of his fingers down her cheek when he got close enough. "You're such an amazing woman, Carrie, and I can't believe you're allowing me to… Are you sure you want this? Want me? You know what I am. What I've done."

Carrie reached for his hand and brought his palm to her lips, giving it a gentle kiss. "Yeah, I'm sure. And what I know is that you're a good man who will do anything to help the people he cares about." She looked him in the eye, willing him to see the truth of her words. "I love you, Spike. I've loved you for a while now."

Spike swallowed hard, blinking back a few tears as he slid his fingers into her hair to rest on the back of her head. He pulled her close, his other hand sliding around her waist, then he said in a somewhat choked voice, "I love you, too, Carrie. So much."

Her hands slid around his back and she hugged him to her, fingertips pressing into his flesh as their mouths met. The kiss seemed to last for years as they explored each other, and when they finally broke away, they were both breathing hard. Spike slid his hands down to her hips and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants then slowly slid them down.

Carrie stepped out of them – she wasn't wearing underwear, either – part of the plan – then she gasped when Spike grasped her hips and pulled her tight against him, his manhood pressing hard against her belly. He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "May I taste you?"

Carrie melted against him, barely remembering to nod. She'd fantasized about Spike doing that exact thing so many times that she nearly climaxed just from thinking about it.

At her nod, Spike gently turned her and guided her back toward the bed. He helped her to sit as he sank to his knees on the floor in front of her. He leaned in; feathering light kisses across her cheeks then down her nose before he pressed his lips hard to hers. She opened her mouth as she slid her hands up his arms and scooted closer, pressing her breasts against his chest. When the kiss broke, Spike's lips traveled to her neck, licking and nipping as he moved lower. His mouth closed on a taut nipple, pulling it sharply into his mouth.

He continued moving lower, his tongue circling her navel before he backed up and bent, his lips brushing the inside of her knee as he turned his head to look up at her. "Lay back, luv." She did, reaching up to grab the pillow so she'd be able to watch. He smirked and slowly trailed his lips up the inside of her thigh then gave her a long lick before circling her nub with the tip of his tongue.

She didn't watch long because Spike's lips, tongue, and fingers soon had her panting and clutching at the blankets. Her head tipped back and she reached down, grasping his head in her hands to pull him closer. Damn, he was good at this. He brought her to the edge then backed her down, only to bring her to the edge again, over and over. She was moaning and begging for release when he finally sucked hard on her pulsing nub. She exploded, her upper body seizing into a trembling arch as her thighs closed tightly around his head.

When she released his head, Spike sat back; smiling in satisfaction at the randomly twitching woman sprawled on his bed. His woman. His Carrie.

She rolled her head on the pillow, looking at him with a dazed expression, then shakily pushed herself up. Her arm wobbled a bit when she lifted it and pointed at the floor in front of her feet. "Stand here."

Spike rose to his feet and stepped toward her, smiling softly as she examined his bobbing cock. She lifted a hand and grasped it lightly, moving it this way and that as she looked at it from all angles. She used her other hand to cradle his balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. He reached out to comb his fingers through her hair as he asked, "Do I meet your expectations, pet?"

She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "More than. Now I know how you got the nickname. It fits."

Spike blushed and looked toward the bathroom then his eyes rolled back and he groaned loudly as he was engulfed in warm wetness. He looked down and groaned again. Her lips were stretched around him, one small hand circling his shaft as her head bobbed. "Bloody hell, Carrie. Where'd you learn..." His head tilted back as she started applying some suction and he struggled not to thrust. He looked back down at her then lifted his hands to her head, sliding his fingers into her hair to hold it off her face.

She looked up at him and started humming and Spike tipped his head back again, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought to hold back his release. He'd never been known as a two-pump chump – actually, he'd received several compliments on his stamina – but now he was ready to blow. He gasped out a strangled, "Carrie… I'm gonna…"

He expected her to stop, but when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat and she swallowed, taking him all the way to the hilt, there was no way he could hold back. He shouted her name as his orgasm exploded through him; her throat muscles massaging his length as she swallowed him down, every last drop, then she released him, giving him a last gentle lick. His legs were wobbly and felt like rubber when he looked down at her. She was holding his deflating cock in her hand and giving him a radiant smile. "Not bad for my first time. Well… the first time I can remember, anyway. How'd I do?"

Spike stumbled a bit then he turned and sat down next to her. He leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to hers, then whispered, "That was brilliant, pet. Bloody brilliant. Where'd you learn to do that?"

She leaned her forehead against his and smiled. "Anya. She told me about the humming thing… and the swallowing you thing." She gave him a quick peck then stood up and faced him. "The practice with the bananas probably helped, too."

Spike's eyes glazed over just a little and he gasped quietly then croaked, "Bananas?"

Carrie nodded. "Yeah. As soon as I knew I could have you, I asked Anya what I should do to make our first time really special." She waved at Spike's groin. "And as big as you are, I needed some practice. I started with small bananas until I could get past the gag reflex and then moved up to bigger bananas until I could swallow something as big as you."

Spike groaned and shifted on the bed then looked down at himself, not entirely surprised to feel his cock starting to stir.

Carrie stepped forward and laid her hands on his shoulders then lightly pushed him backwards. He flopped onto the mattress and she nodded toward the headboard. "Scoot up."

He did and she crawled up the bed and straddled him, reaching for his wrists. She lifted his arms above his head then slid her hands into his, twining their fingers together as she once again kissed him possessively. She was murmuring as she did, "My man. My Spike."

Spike breathed into the kiss, "Yours."

She lifted up and gave him another radiant smile. "I love it when you say that. I love you."

He started to reply, but his words were cut off when her mouth crashed down on his again. When she lifted her head, they were both panting and Carrie gasped, "How long until you're ready again?"

Spike glanced down. "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. He's tryin', but it'll take that long 'fore he's fully ready."

Carrie leaned down and nibbled on Spike's earlobe. "What should we do while we wait?"

Spike groaned low in his throat then licked his lips when she raised her head to look at him. "You could let me have another taste." He glanced at her breasts and licked his lips again. "I'd like to start with those."

XXXX

Carrie's thighs were clenched tight around his head again as she shuddered through another orgasm. When she released him, Spike raised his head and smiled up at her blissful features. "That's four."

Her mouth curved into a lazy grin as she looked down at him. "I'm starting to think you like it more than I do."

His smile widened as he dipped his head and dragged his tongue across her twitching nub. "Could easily spend the rest of the afternoon right here, kitten."

Carrie reached down and slid her fingers into his hair, tugging lightly until he raised his head. "But that wouldn't be fair." She raised her head a little and asked, "Is he ready?"

Spike chuckled. "Yeah. Has been for the last three, pet. Just waitin' his turn."

"Then come up here and let him have his turn." Spike started to move off the bed and Carrie grasped his arm. "Where are you going?"

He nodded to the dresser. "Need a condom."

Carrie giggled. "I'm already pregnant."

Spike dropped his eyes. "Well, yeah, but…"

Carrie tightened her grasp on his arm. "If either one of us had anything, considering what we've done so far, it's been shared, Spike. Using a condom now would be like closing the barn door after the horse has run off." She let go of his arm and sat up. "I need to go to a doctor anyway, so how about we go together? I'm pretty sure both of us are clean, but we can get checked out if you're worried."

"That's not what I… I'm clean, Carrie. Get tested every six months just to be sure. I'm not worried 'bout catchin' anything from you, either," he nodded toward her crotch, "Considerin' where my mouth has been for the past hour or so, it's just… Since Dru, I've never shagged without a condom. Just figured you'd prefer it. Less mess."

"Which way do you prefer?"

Spike looked toward the box with a shrug. "Without, but I'm used to wearin' 'em. Doesn't feel as good, but I'll still enjoy it, Carrie, and I'll make sure you enjoy it, too."

Carrie got up off the bed and walked over to the dresser on somewhat shaky legs. She picked up the box of condoms then walked purposefully into the bathroom. She pulled the trash can out from under the sink and looked over at Spike with a determined expression as she crammed the box as deep into the can as it would go. "Darn. Looks like you're out of condoms. Guess we'll just have to make do without them." She walked back over to the bed and crawled up beside Spike, pushing on his shoulder until he was lying on his back. She stretched out next to him and laid her hand on his cock, squeezing gently. "I'm not worried about getting messy, Spike. That's half the fun, and besides, you have a shower and a washing machine, so any mess is easily cleaned up."

Spike smiled up at her as she lowered her head to nibble on his bottom lip. When she'd raised her head, his expression was somewhat shy. "Might not last as long without 'em, pet, but I'll do my best."

Carrie leaned down for another nibble. "Not worried about that, either. It isn't like we can't do it again later, Spike. Like I said, we're gonna have lots of sex. The only thing I'm even a little worried about is if you're gonna fit."

She kissed him soundly then started nibbling along his jaw to his ear. He groaned as she bit down on his earlobe then sucked it into her mouth. Her hand was moving slowly on him, clouding his thoughts somewhat, but he managed to say, "I'll go slow, but if anything hurts, please tell me."

Carrie lifted her head then swung her leg over him and sat up, her hand still sliding along his length. "Don't worry. I'll go slow."

Spike's eyes widened as she lifted herself up and placed the head of his cock at her entrance, then they rolled back in his head as she started to sink down. He reached for her hips, grasping them tightly as she engulfed him, inch by inch. Once her pelvis was flush with his, she stilled, taking deep breaths as she adjusted to his size. "Wow."

Spike was frozen, not daring to hardly even breathe. He'd forgotten just how good it felt to enter a woman with a naked cock. Not that it didn't feel good when he was wearing a condom, just not AS good. Although, the fact that he was buried inside Carrie might be making all the difference. His brain was too preoccupied – and didn't have nearly enough blood circulating in it – to ponder that for very long.

Carrie still hadn't moved and Spike was starting to worry that he was hurting her. He asked quietly, "Are you all right, luv?"

She looked down at him then braced her hands on his chest and lifted herself slightly. "I'm peachy." She slid back down then started a slow, rocking motion. "How are you?"

Spike's words floated out of him on a pleasured moan. "Feels amazing, pet."

Carrie started rocking just a bit faster and Spike's hips lifted off the bed in time with her motions. Carrie watched his features as they moved together. He was clearly enjoying it, but there was something just under the surface… like he was worried. About what, she wasn't sure. He grasped her hips just a bit tighter and braced his feet on the bed to give himself better leverage. Then it hit her. The position they were in didn't let him make use of what must be his considerable skills, and he was probably worried that he wasn't performing up to her expectations. They'd have to work on that; on getting him to believe that she wanted him to get as much pleasure as he gave, but right now wasn't the time. He wasn't going to reap the full benefit of this experience as long as he was worried about her not being satisfied. She had plenty of time to figure out what would rock **his** world, but right now she needed to let him do his thing.

Carrie leaned down, sliding her hands up Spike's chest as she did. She slid them under his neck then lifted, tugging him into a sitting position as she sat back up. She kissed him fiercely, her hips still rocking, and his hands slid up her back, holding her tightly against him. She tucked one leg in closer to his then leaned slightly in that direction. Spike took the hint and rolled, laying her back on the bed as he hooked her leg over his elbow then braced that hand on the bed.

His whole demeanor changed in that instant. He took charge, churning his hips against hers, making sure he tapped her pleasure button on every single thrust as his mouth nipped and licked and sucked on erogenous zones she hadn't even known she possessed. He molded her into new positions, both of them becoming slick with sweat as the room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking.

Spike was thrusting hard into her, grunting with each thrust, and Carrie could feel herself building to what was looking to be a mind-shattering orgasm. She had one last coherent thought before her brain drowned in a sea of pleasure, "His bed squeaks just like in my dreams."


	9. Chapter 9 - Roast

Clean Slate

Chapter Nine – Roast

They finally made it out of the bedroom several hours later when the rumbling of their stomachs started to be louder than the moans and gasps.

Spike lifted the lid off the crock pot and smirked down at the roast. "Might be a bit dry, pet. We managed to leave it long enough that most of the juice boiled off."

Carrie shrugged. "Don't care. I'm starving. I'd eat a piece of cardboard dipped in BBQ sauce at this point."

Spike held up the unprepared horseradish. "Takes a while to make this." He tucked it into the back of a cupboard. "We'll save it for next time."

Carrie nodded as she pulled a meat fork and carving knife out of a drawer then handed them to Spike. "Okay. You grab the serving platter and I'll get the plates and silverware."

Spike quirked an eyebrow as he set the utensils on the counter. "You just want roast? By itself? It would only take a few moments to heat some vegetables to go with it. And you are eating for two. The little one needs the vitamins."

Carrie set some silverware on the counter next to the crock pot then wrapped her arms around Spike's middle. "One skipped serving of vegetables isn't going to hurt, but if you don't feed both of us something, like right now, I'm gonna start taking bites out of you, mister."

Spike pointed to a fading set of teeth marks on his pectoral. "You already did, pet."

Carrie growled playfully as she nipped at Spike's chin. "Feed me. I need fuel."

Spike looked at her quizzically. "For what, luv? Figured you'd be just about done in. We've been shaggin' for nearly five hours."

Carrie nibbled at his neck then nipped at his earlobe before she whispered, "And you've been doing most of the work, so it's my turn to rock your world. When we're done eating, we're gonna take a shower, where I'm gonna give you a soapy hand-job." She smiled at Spike's low moan and continued, "Then, once we're clean and back in bed, I'm gonna ride you 'till your eyes roll up. And I will tie you to the headboard if I have to." Spike shuddered and moaned again. "Then we'll go to sleep because we both have work in the morning, but guess how I'm gonna wake you up?"

Spike croaked, "How?"

Carrie reached down and trailed her fingers over the bulge in Spike's sweat pants then said in a husky whisper, "Blow job."

Spike gasped out a somewhat strangled, "Right then. Let's get you fed." He kissed her hard then let her go and moved to the cupboard. He took the serving platter out of it and started transferring pieces of roast out of the crock pot. "Don't need plates, luv. We'll just eat from this, since it's all we're havin'. You don't mind sharin' with me, do you?"

Carrie closed the cupboard that held the plates and shook her head. "Nope, I don't mind sharing as long as it's not you I have to share. Speaking of which… you forgot to call Harmony, and you were supposed to be there," she glanced at the clock on the microwave, "two hours ago."

Spike froze for a second then cursed under his breath, "Bollocks." He took a deep breath and put the lid back on the crock pot as he said, "No help for it. Even if I called now, she'd still be brassed off."

Carrie shrugged. "So? It's not like you're married to her. She'll just have to get over it. What? You think she'll show up here demanding that you screw her?"

Spike muttered, "Not here. She doesn't know where I live, but tomorrow… She's not all there, pet. She's a bit barking, if you ask me. Not entirely sure how this is gonna play out."

"You're not her property, Spike. You can cut her off anytime you want."

Spike looked over at Carrie. "I know that, luv, but… that chit lives for drama. She'll do somethin', I can pretty much guarantee it."

XX

XXXX

XX*

Carrie was out in the garage talking to Spike while he prepared his bay for his first customer – well… actually, she was kissing Spike, so not much preparing was happening – when Cordelia's little sports car purred into the lot. Carrie saw it before Spike did and she leaned up to whisper in his ear, "Skank number one just pulled up."

Spike turned to face the parking lot and grimaced. "She's not on my schedule for today." He sighed. "I'd hoped to at least make it through a few customers before I'd have to deal with this crap."

"How do you think she'll take the news?"

Spike shrugged. "No idea. I haven't seen her for a while."

"How long is a while?"

Spike thought for a few seconds. "Six weeks? Maybe seven? She went out of the country on holiday. Think she was supposed to be back last week. Figured I'd have seen her before this."

Cordelia breezed into the garage wearing a bright smile. "Could I talk to you for a minute, Spike?" She glanced at Carrie. "Alone?"

Spike nodded toward the parking lot. "Something wrong with your car?"

"No, it's fine." She glanced at Carrie again, who was standing resolutely beside Spike and showing no intention of moving. "Um… I wanted to see if you were free tonight."

Carrie reached out and twined her fingers with Spike's then looked defiantly at Cordelia. "He's not free tonight or any other night."

Cordelia looked at their linked hands then laughed quietly. "Well, shit. I'm too late."

Carrie and Spike both blinked stupidly at her then Carrie sputtered. "Too late? For what?"

Cordelia smiled at Spike. "I'm gonna miss you, but I'm glad you found someone." She turned her smile on Carrie. "I knew there was something between you two the first time I saw you. I've never seen Spike look at anyone the way he looks at you, but since he was still dating other people, I figured I'd throw my hat in the ring. Must have missed the memo that he was off the market." She leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "I just want you to know that I wasn't going to sleep with him tonight. I was going to see if we could be something more, but it looks like you beat me to it. You won. Congratulations."

Carrie tightened her grip on Spike's fingers. "Uh… Thanks."

Spike smiled at Carrie then over at Cordelia. "Thank you for being an adult about this, Cordy."

Cordelia smirked. "We all have to grow up sometime, Spike. I'll spread the word on Sorority Row for you. Might save you some trouble… then again, it might not. Some of those girls can get a little… attached."

Spike lifted a hand to the back of his neck. "Yeah… speaking of which, have you seen Harm recently? Should probably, uh… give her the memo, too."

"No, but I'll let you handle that memo. Good luck. You'll need it." And with that, she turned and swept out of the garage, leaving two stunned people in her wake. Spike coughed quietly as her car sped out of the lot. "Well… that was…"

Carrie said, "Unexpected." She looked up at Spike. "One down, who knows how many to go."

Carrie had been on edge since Cordelia's visit. She kept popping up from her desk to check out the goings-on in the garage, just waiting for Harmony or some other pissed off college girl to show up. Spike wasn't much calmer. Every car that pulled into the lot caused him to pause his work and look to see who it was.

Anya was the one who spotted her. She was restocking the coffee supplies in the lobby and mentioned in an off-hand way, "The blonde one is here. The one Spike was supposed to see last night. She doesn't look happy."

Carrie popped up from her desk again, craning her neck to see past the half a dozen vehicles up on lifts in the garage to try to get a glimpse of Spike. Anya noticed her movement and pointed out the front window. "She's not in the garage. She's out front."

Carrie turned in that direction just in time to see Harmony wrench the door open and stomp into the lobby. "Where is he?"

Anya pasted a polite smile on her face and said pleasantly, "We have a lot of males working here. You'll have to be more specific."

Harmony rounded on her. "Spike! He stood me up last night! He's not in the garage and he's not in here, so where is he?"

Carrie peeked out into the garage and noticed Spike's blond head moving quickly in her direction. "He's on his way in. Geez, take a pill or something. You're not married to him."

Harmony noticed Carrie for the first time and smirked. "Not yet."

Carrie gaped at her and gasped, "What?"

Harmony gave Carrie a disdainful look just as Spike stepped into the office. "We're engaged. Didn't he tell you?" She sniffed. "Not that he needs to. You're just the office help." She glanced around the room, giving it a disparaging look. "I'm going to take him out of this dumpy, dirty place. My father said Spike could work for him after the wedding."

Anya barked, "Hey! This place is not dumpy or dirty!"

Carrie's astonished gaze flew to Spike and he snorted. "Barking. Told you, didn't I?" He looked over at Anya. "You have a fine business, Anya. Don't take anythin' she says to heart. She's a loon." He turned to Harmony. "Okay, I think we need to get a few things straight. For one… we are not engaged. From what I remember, we've never even discussed it, so I have no idea how you even came up with that notion. We had some fun, yeah, but I've no plans to make that situation a permanent one." He walked over to Carrie and slipped his arm around her, pulling her tightly against his side. "And for two… I'm takin' myself off the market, effective yesterday." He leaned down and brushed a kiss against Carrie's hair. "I'm attached now, Harm, so I'll not be seein' anyone but Carrie from here on in."

Harmony screeched, "Her?! You're dumping me for her?!"

Spike looked calm, but Carrie could feel how tense he was as he hugged her even tighter to his side. "You and I were never together, you barmy chit. We shagged a few times. That's all."

"What the hell does she have that I don't?"

Anya snorted. "I can think of three things."

Harmony barked, "What three things?"

Anya raised one finger and said, "class," then she raised a second finger and said with a smirk, "Spike." Harmony glared hard at Anya as she glanced at Harmony's flat stomach and raised one more finger. "And a bun in the oven."

Harmony's glare turned into a sneer as she turned to look at Carrie and chuckled derisively. "That's a good trick, trapping a man by telling him you're pregnant… if you even are. Slut. Maybe I should try it." She looked at Spike. "I'm pregnant and it's yours."

Carrie started to speak, but Spike stepped in front of her, his fists clenched. "I've never hit a woman, but if you carry on as you are, you'll be the first. I wore a condom every time I shagged you, so if you're pregnant, it sure as hell isn't mine. And Carrie being pregnant is irrelevant. I'm with her because I love her. That's the fourth thing you don't have; my love. The fifth would be my respect. Now bugger off. We're done."

Anya stepped to the door and pulled it sharply open. "You heard the man. Get out of my dumpy, dirty place."

Harmony screeched out an incoherent noise then spun and stomped out. Anya called after her, "Have a nice day! Don't come again! Ever!" then she firmly closed the door and looked over at Spike. "Please tell me this isn't going to become a regular thing. How many more are we going to have to deal with?"

Spike looked tired as he unclenched his fists and turned around. "I don't know. Hopefully not many, but I doubt any of them will be as crazy as the one that just left." He wrapped Carrie in a hug and whispered, "I'm sorry, pet."

She whispered back, "It's not your fault she's crazy, Spike. I love you."

He clutched her tighter and whispered, "I love you, too," then he let her go and turned toward the garage, muttering under his breath as he went back to work. "Married to that bint? Like hell."

XX

XXXX

XX

*Four months later*

"I think that cute guy is hitting on Spike."

"What cute guy? Where?"

"Out in the parking lot. The one with dark, soulful eyes just like Xander's."

Carrie heaved herself up from her chair and looked out toward the parking lot. Spike was standing in front of the office talking to a man with dark, shaggy hair. Spike noticed her stand up and shot her a smile. Carrie smiled back then looked at the other man and snorted, "Parker? He's a cute douchebag, but I guarantee he's not hitting on Spike. For one, he's not gay, and for two, he thinks anyone with a manual labor job is beneath him. He's the one who…" Her legs suddenly lost their ability to hold her up and she collapsed into her chair with a whoosh of expelled breath.

Anya looked at her sharply. "Carrie? Are you all right? Is it the baby?"

Carrie leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk then cradled her head in her hands, her hair falling to cover her face. Spike burst through the door a second later and rushed to her side. "Carrie? Luv? Is it time?"

She lifted her head and looked at Spike, her face pale and her eyes wide. "I remember."

His eyes widened to match hers and he gasped, "Remember? How? What triggered it?"

Carrie dropped her head into her hands again, whimpering softly.

Spike looked at Anya. "What happened?"

Anya motioned toward the man still standing in the parking lot. "She saw him. Said his name is Parker and he's a douchebag who's not gay and then she sat down really fast."

Spike looked over his shoulder at the window. Parker was standing there staring intently at Carrie. Spike motioned to the front door. "Get him in here."

Anya hurried to the door as Spike turned back to Carrie. She'd leaned back in the chair and was breathing fast with her hands pressed to her swollen belly. Spike reached out and combed her hair back from her face with his fingers. "Carrie? Are you all right?"

She shook her head and panted, "Not really. I have all these memories crashing into my brain and they're giving me a massive headache… and I think the baby's coming."

Anya slammed through the door dragging Parker behind her. She towed him to the front of Carrie's desk and he stumbled to a halt, still staring at the panting woman. He looked at Spike then back to Carrie and stammered, "Buffy? What are you doing here?"

Spike's head whipped around and his gaze focused on Parker. "You know her?"

Parker nodded. "Yeah. She's my ex. I haven't seen her for months, though. I thought she moved away after we broke up."

Spike waved at Carrie's belly and said in a low, angry voice, "I'm assuming you're the one responsible for this."

Parker nodded weakly and backed up a step. "Um… yeah. She told me about it and I um… I left."

Spike stood and moved toward Parker wearing a menacing scowl. Parker backed up a few more steps. Spike waved at the pregnant woman. "You left her? On her own? She's carryin' your child, you twat! Do you have any idea what she's been through?" Spike curled his hands into fists and took another step. "I ought to tear your head off for what you've done!"

He started to raise his fist, but stopped at Carrie's gasped, "Don't, Spike. He's not worth it and you'll just get his blood everywhere."

Anya interjected, "And blood is extremely difficult to remove from carpet. I like this carpet. It's new." She pointed to the small lobby on the other side of the tall counter. "But if you want to beat the shit out of him in the lobby, that would work. That floor's tile. Easy clean-up."

Parker had the good sense to flinch at the scorching glare Carrie threw his way. "A good beating is probably just what you need, you asshole." She pushed her chair back. "If I wasn't in labor, I'd make some popcorn and watch Spike beat you down. I'd even pay for the new carpet so I could watch from this comfy chair, but right now Spike and I have to go have a baby." Spike turned to see Carrie trying to get to her feet. He rushed to her side and helped her up.

They started for the door and Parker called out, "Buffy! I'm not paying a cent for that brat, so don't you even think about…"

Carrie stopped and turned, throwing another glare at the dark haired man. "My name," she growled, "is Carrie. Now fuck off. I already told you I don't want your money, you dickhead, and if I ever see you again, I'll **help** Spike beat you into the ground." She looked up at Spike's face, his expression a mix of concern and fury, then she reached up to stroke his cheek. "Let's go have our baby, Spike. OUR baby… not his." She turned to Parker. "Stay away from us and our child, Parker Abrams. You won't like what happens if either one of us sees your little weasel face ever again." She leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on Spike's lips then took his arm and motioned toward her pants. "We'd better hurry. My water just broke."

Sixteen hours later, the doctor handed Carrie a perfect baby boy. She cuddled him and presented her breast, smiling tiredly when he latched on and started to suckle.

She reached for Spike's hand and tugged him down onto the bed beside her. "Look at how beautiful he is, Spike."

Spike kissed Carrie then leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of the baby's fuzzy head. "Just like his mum."

A nurse holding a clipboard walked up to the bed and said quietly, "I need to fill out the birth certificate. Have you chosen a name?"

Carrie nodded. "His name is William Alexander."

The nurse wrote that down then asked, "And the father's name?"

Carrie turned to Spike and asked, "You're sure?"

Spike's eyes were misty as he nodded and whispered, "I'm sure. I'd be honored, pet."

Carrie beamed a smile at him then turned to the nurse. "The father's name is William Henry Pratt."

XX

XXXX

XX

*Epilogue*

Carrie ran down the steps of the courthouse, waving a piece of paper over her head. "It's done!"

Spike stood up from the bench he'd been sitting on and adjusted the baby carrier strapped to his chest. He turned slightly sideways as Carrie threw her arms around him and squeezed him and William in a hug. She leaned up for a kiss from Spike then nuzzled the baby's head. "You could have seen Mama get her right name if you hadn't been so fussy, baby boy."

She held the piece of paper up so Spike could read it. "See? Right there it says my official legal name is Carrie Anne. I'm not Buffy anymore."

Spike brushed a kiss against Carrie's hair. "Good thing, too. Buffy's a silly name."

Carrie nudged Spike playfully in the ribs. "Oh… Buffy's a silly name, says the man named after his penis."

Spike chuckled. "Point," then he frowned slightly at the paper. "You kept Summers, though?"

Carrie shrugged. "Couldn't think of anything else to change it to. Not like it matters. It'll be changing to Pratt on Saturday, so I'll only be a Summers for three more days."

Spike wrapped his arm tight around his soon-to-be wife and whispered into her hair. "Mrs. Carrie Anne Pratt. I like the sound of that, luv."

Xander waved at them from the cab of a U-Haul truck parked on the street. "Hey! I have to have this truck back to the rental place by seven and I still have a garage to run! Fire up your monster of a car and let's get this show on the road!"

Spike looked over at the truck then squeezed Carrie again. "Let's go, pet. Time to move our little family into Xander's wedding present."

Carrie sighed happily as they walked toward Spike's big, black car. "I can't believe he bought us a house."

Spike shrugged. "It's Xander. What else did you expect?"

With William strapped securely into his car seat and Carrie grasping his hand tightly, Spike put the car in gear and followed the truck to their new house.

XXXX

William was sleeping soundly in his playpen in a corner of the living room when Spike stepped through the front door carrying the last box from the pile that had been in the driveway. He kicked the door shut with his foot then balanced the box precariously on a stack of boxes by the stairs and called out toward the kitchen, "Last one, pet. Where do you want to start unpacking? Kitchen? Bedroom? William's room?"

Carrie stepped into the living room and Spike looked over at her then smiled. She was wearing one of his t-shirts and the old pair of boxers he'd given her the day they met. "What's with the outfit, luv? Haven't seen those boxers in an age."

Carrie smiled. "This is my 'new beginnings' outfit, so I thought I should wear it for this."

Spike chuckled. "For unpacking?"

"No. New house, new baby, new name, and almost new husband. My new life. My better life."

Spike walked toward her and wrapped her in a hug then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're sure it's better? I know you were having a bit of a rough time when we met, but as strong as you are, you'd have been fine, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I probably could have made it on my own as single-mom Buffy, but I'm really glad I don't have to. And I'm not saying that just because William needs a father. I need **you** , Spike. I need you in my life. You're what makes it better."

Spike's voice was a little choked when he whispered, "You make my life better, too, kitten." He squeezed her tightly then cleared his throat. "Okay. Things to do and all that if we want to have any chance of gettin' some sleep tonight. I'll take the boxes up to our new bedroom if you want to start putting things away in our new kitchen."

Carrie shook her head. "We have to do something else first."

"What's that, luv?"

"Well, the doctor said I'm good. Everything's healed up and I can resume normal activities."

Spike leaned back slightly, wearing a hopeful leer. "You mean…"

Carrie put her hands on Spike's chest and pushed lightly, backing him up against the wall by the front door. She reached over and turned the deadbolt then smiled up at him as she went to work unfastening his jeans. "Yeah, I mean…"

They didn't do any unpacking the first night in their new house, nor did they get any sleep, but they did christen every room, some more than once.


End file.
